


The Demon and the Dog

by Sirifall



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, I'll add more tags later, M/M, Offscreen gore, bill is super fun to write, dreamscapes!, idk what im doing but im having fun so far, interdimensional servants of grotesque nature, its great, mystery shack employee tag team, really its just fun times all around, slight Manipulation, sorta like princess and the frog?, wendy is awesome and i love her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirifall/pseuds/Sirifall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper didn't find Journal 3. No, Dipper got it straight from Bill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gravity Falls

If there was a singular thing that kept the enthusiastic nature of Gravity Falls alive, it was the people.

They were everywhere – all the nobodies and know-hows that anyone and everyone would look over back where you came from – they all ended up in the small, bumbling town and the surrounding area. It was like all the wallflowers adopted a hive mind: _Go to Oregon_ , it would say, _You can be something in Oregon_. _Do something in Oregon. Go to Oregon._

Greasy's Diner, the place right there at the corner, would have either been bought out in the first week or blended in so well that it got no business in any other place on earth. Here in Gravity Falls though, the Diner was always packed. The crowd was always managed by one old woman with a bad eye and a coffee cup always at hand, and nothing could bring that Diner down.

Mabel _loved_ it.

Dipper... well, he agreed it was pretty amazing, but he was more interested in the surrounding woods than an old corner restaurant that should have dropped out of existence years ago.

“Mabel...” His sister slowed her scarfing, but it was obvious that whatever had been put in those pancakes was a little more important than whatever her brother was worrying about. “Are you sure we shouldn't have gone straight to the shack? Stan's waiting for us, you know.”

She swallowed an enormous heap of pancake, coughed a bit, and grinned in that way people grin when _the best thing_ just happened and they were trying to keep it secret. “But I was _hungryyyy_!”

“ _Hungryyyy_...” He echoed out of habit. “Don't you think he'll be worried?”

“Stan? _Pshaw_ ! As long as we get there before dark, I don't think he'll mind. Besides, this place is so _cute_!”

Dipper felt like he was being watched, and turned to glare at the offending eye – a possum, hiding in one of the holes in the bar. It didn't seem to care one way or the other when Dipper met it's gaze, and he turned back to his sister. “Yeah... I don't think 'cute' is the right word for it.”

“An entire summer in this little town...” She continued dreamily. Suddenly, she perked up, nearly slamming her fork through the table in excitement. “Maybe I'll have a summer romance!”

“Mabel, you've tried having summer romances for the past _three years_. I don't think you're going to get one.”

She leaned over her food, scowling. “You doubt my abilities, heathen? I'll have you drawn and quartered!”

He grinned. “You don't even know what that means! And I'll _never_ bow to the authority of the state!”

“What's it mean?”

“It means you're going to kill me very painfully.”

“Ew, no. Phrase change!”

“You can't just change the meaning of a phrase!”

“Well I can't exactly go back and not say it, can I Dipper? Can you? Do you have a time machine? No, I didn't think so.”

Her brother huffed. “Anyway – what was I saying?” Mabel shrugged and popped another pancake into her mouth. “Oh, right! We should probably get over to the shack once you're done.”

She groaned. “ _Fiiiine_ , but you can't pester me about it 'till I'm done!”

“Deal.”

Another fork full, another slightly forced swallow. “C'mon, Dippingsauce, aren't you excited? Who knows, _you_ could have a summer romance too!”

He smiled. “Why does that sound threatening coming from you?” She shrugged again, grinning. “I don't really want – well, _a relationship_ , maybe, but not a 'summer romance'.”

Mabel pouted. “But Piedmont is so _far_ from here! If you fell in love here, then you would be able to take it _there_!”

“Sure I could! It's not like we don't have a computer.”

She scoffed. “If you would get away from your games enough to use it, you would know that our computer is a freaking dinosaur, Dipdops. No way you would be able to use it for stuff like Skype.”

Dipper opened his mouth, as if to speak, but thought better of it. “...I _guess_ you have a point. What about old-timey stuff then? Like letters?”

“As hopelessly romantic as hand-written letters are, I don't think you have enough patience for snail mail.”

“I have plenty of patience!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I do!”

“Right.”

He groaned, directing his attention out the window where the tall trees of the nearby forest were still shaking in the breeze. An old scar on his thumb twinged just as he noticed dark clouds rolling in from the treetops a little ways away – it was going to rain soon. “Mabel, we gotta go soon.”

She threw her hands up. “See?”

“No, Mabel, it's about to rain. Do you _want_ your sweater to get wet?”

“... Good point!” She pushed her plate away. “I'm done, I'm done!” At the remark, the waitress – the only one in the Diner, named Lazy Susan – appeared from the other side of the bar. “Miss! Could we have the check?”

“Of course! You just stay right there!”

Mabel grinned at him. “See? Excellent Diner. So cute.”

“Still not the right word.”

“Don't care!” When the woman came around again, Mabel handed over a ten and bounced out of her seat, suddenly just as eager as Dipper had been when they walked out of the bus station. “C'mon, let's go! All our stuff is already there, right?”

Dipper nodded, sliding out of his own seat. “Mom and Dad had it shipped... two weeks ago? It should be here.”

“Thank goodness. I missed my rainbow sweater...”

“And your llama sweater,” He continued for her. “And your star sweater, and pretty much every sweater you packed.”

“Those too! Don't ever let me go two weeks with out my babies ever again.”

They walked out into the quickly darkening air, and Mabel cheered for 'the first summer storm in _forever_ ' while Dipper found himself absently rubbing at his thumb again. He couldn't figure out where all the wind was coming from – it seemed to dance and twirl around them, changing every other second as it tried to floof Mabel's hair and steal his own hat – but thankfully, he knew exactly where the famed Mystery Shack was.

He pointed out the road to his sister, and off they went.

The Piedmont didn't get very many storms, so of course Mabel was ecstatic when the first drop came when they were halfway to their destination. A few moments later, there were more, and within minutes Dipper could feel the drops soaking through his hat. Tugging Mabel along, he broke into a dead sprint that she happily went along with, gasping at the occasional lightning strike and yelling when the thunder followed at it's heels.

When the rain soaked completely through his hat and his shoes started squishing with every step, Dipper accepted his fate and yelled along with her, letting himself be tugged straight through puddles. They hopped over a small stream that took over one side of the road, and noticed when it evolved into a very large stream that they then ran through, laughing.

When they broke into the large yard of the shack, they were still laughing. Mabel stomped up the stair of the porch, and stomped a little more when she noticed her shoes were squishing out water. She patted her wet cheeks, rung her hair, and beamed at the decently-sized puddle she had made. Dipper followed her example and rung out his hat, placing soaking socks and shoes by the door before knocking.

“Stan!”

“Stan!”

“Stan, we're here!”

“Grunkle Stan open up!”

“Staaaaan!” Mabel laughed, and turned her attention to her brothers now-matted hair – it was quickly floofed up again, much to his annoyance. “Do you think he forgot?”

“I hope not.” He knocked again. “Grunkle Stan?”

It took a few more moments, but they both heard the eventual click of the lock, and the door swung open, revealing - … someone that didn't look like their Great Uncle at all.

“Kids?” The man looked a little puzzled, then grinned, showing off two rows of practically perfectly set white teeth. He was only a little taller than the twins, with dark skin that matched with combed black hair and – a top hat? And actual top hat, and a bow tie! “Didn't know Stan had _kids_ coming over, otherwise I might have waited!”

Mabel smiled politely. “Is Stan home?”

The man laughed, moving out of the doorway and gesturing to another room inside. “Just in the kitchen there! We were just discussing business!”

The twins blinked at each other, but dutifully entered. The man bowed as they passed him, still smiling, and Dipper noticed that he was not only wearing a top hat and bow tie, but an entire suit under a tailed yellow jacket.

He couldn't help but feel uneasy as the door was shut behind them, and the familiar sound of rain hitting the ground dulled to a low hum.

“Grunkle Stan?”

“Kids?” The gravelly voice sounded out from the doorway the man had pointed to, and Mabel charged in front of her brother, all but barreling in. He got to the doorway not a second after, and found another man that _did_ look like their Great Uncle being tackled by his sister. “Whoa! Easy Mabel, honey, I can't get up!”

Dipper heard a chuckle from behind him, and turned to see the first man looming over his shoulder, still smiling. Every time he looked at the man, he noticed something new – this time brought the realization that he had dimples when he smiled. This fact should not have been as surprising as it was.

The man met his eyes, and Dipper suddenly felt like he was in a lot of trouble.

“Guess I should introduce myself, huh?” He offered a hand. “Name's Bill Cipher, kid, nice to meet ya'!”

They shook. “Um, I'm Dipper – my sister -”

“I'm Mabel!” She shouted, flashing over for the sake of her own handshake, which the man – Bill – happily delivered.

“Dipper and Mabel... Mabel and Dipper...” Bill seemed to taste the words, and soon the grin was back. “I'll find you two some nicknames!”

“Cipher.”

They all turned their attention to Stan, getting to his feet. “Yeees?”

He sighed. “We'll continue this another time.”

Bill snapped a salute. “Will do, Fez!” And, with a quick wink to the two new arrivals, he marched out.

Dipper heard the front door open, the volume of the rain increase, and close again. “Should we drive him home or something?”

Stan laughed. “Cipher? Nah, he'll be fine. Now!” He slapped his knees, bending to their level. “Who wants to watch horrible movies and laugh?”

“I do! I do!”


	2. Journal Number Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins get presents.

The rain lasted for two days – 'the perfect way to start the summer', Mabel said, deeming it appropriate that they relax inside after their long bus ride to Gravity Falls. Stan seemed like he couldn't agree more, happy to sit in his creaky recliner and watch daytime television with barely any clothing on. When Dipper brought it up...

“Kid, listen to me when I say that life is too short to go around the house fully clothed and with a stick up your butt.”

To this he just shrugged and continued reading. Hey, if an old geezer like his Grunkle wanted to walk around his own house in a wife beater and striped boxers, Dipper wasn't really going to stop him. He was vaguely curious about the edge of what looked like a blue tattoo on Stan's shoulder, but that was a question for another time.

On day three, Mabel noticed his hat couldn't hold up against the storm, and Dipper reluctantly agreed. Stan let him get a replacement from the gift shop.

A few hours later, Bill showed up.

At the knock, Mabel was the one to answer the door. “Who is it!”

“Who cares? I brought presents!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow at her, but she shrugged and opened the door anyway. Seconds later he stepped in, just as well-dressed as the day they arrived and carrying two boxes. He took stock of the room, then Mabel, then Dipper, looking them all up and down before grinning like a maniac. “You know, I think I finally found names for you!”

Mabel gasped. “Really?”

He hummed, setting the boxes on a nearby table. " _You_ ,” He stepped up to Mabel, kneeling down and tapping her sweater. “Will be Shooting Star.” She beamed down at the star symbol she had knitted herself, seemingly in love with the name already. “And _you_ -” He pointed to Dipper. “Will be Pine Tree!”

Dipper made a face. “Pine- oh.” His hand went to the brim of his hat. “Okay, I guess.”

“Pine Tree, my nicknames aren't _okay_ , they're a way of life!” Mabel nodded along with him, obviously in whole-hearted agreement. “Anyway, presents! I got one for you, Shooting Star!” At Mabel's cheer, he picked up on of the boxes, spinning it on his finger before offering it to her. “I think you'll find it to be useful!”

She tore at the tape, swinging open the cardboard flaps and gasping. Interested, Dipper was about to slide out of his seat when she turned to him with _oh shit is that a gun_?

“Grappling hook!”

“Ah!”

From his new seat on the other side of the chair, Dipper could hear Bill start snickering. “C'mon, Pine Tree, it's not _that_ dangerous.” When the boy grumbled something along the lines of 'says you', he laughed again. “Shooting Star, why don't you go tell Stan I'm here?”

“Okay! Grappling hook, grappling hook~!”

She bounced off, and Dipper peeked out to see Bill reaching for the second box. “Pine Tree, I got you something too.”

“What is it?”

Bill snorted. “Just come here!”

Dipper stepped cautiously over, earning a face and a box but no words. He scratched at the tape more carefully than Mabel had while Bill watched patiently at his side, and eventually opened the box flaps to reveal a thick, hardcover book. “That book,” Bill's voice was quieter now. “Is valuable. It's full of everything you could imagine, if you look hard enough.” Dipper carefully removed it from the box as he spoke. “Guard it with your life, and only tell people you _trust_ ,” Dipper glanced at him, then back at the book, flipping open it's cover. “That you have it.”

He flipped through the pages, barely registering when Bill backed away from him. Floating eyeballs, giant bats, mystery amulets...? He squeaked when something thumped down the stairs, quickly closing and hiding the journal – labeled number three – behind his back as Mabel appeared, followed closely by Grunkle Stan.

Bill nudged his shoulder, smiled, and stepped forward. “Good afternoon, Stan!”

“Cipher.” The greeting wasn't quite a growl, but it didn't sound pleasant either. “Business?” At the mans grin, he sighed. “Alright, let's move this to the office.”

Stan led the way, and after giving a pat on Dippers shoulder and floofing Mabel's hair a bit, Bill followed, disappearing around the corner.

Mabel smiled, a bit uneasy. “Whoa, what was that all about?” She glanced around, and noticed - “Oh hey! The other box is gone! Did you get a present too?”

“Uh...”

She raised an eyebrow. “'Uh' what? Aren't you gonna tell me?”

“Yeah, I -” There was a bang from the direction of the office, and Dipper met his sister's eyes. “Let's... go upstairs.”

* * *

By the time the two men were finished discussing 'business', Dipper and Mabel were back downstairs, pretending to watch the same daytime television they had been watching earlier as Bill entered. Dipper tried not to react as the man appeared in his peripheral vision, but Mabel had no such qualms.

She waved her new grappling hook around in greeting, making Dipper flinch. Bill just snickered again and made his way to the door. When she turned away, Bill mimed flipping pages of a book, pointing to the girl. Dipper nodded, and the man grinned. When Mabel turned again, he held up one finger to his lips – she seemed to understand, and copied the movement.

One smile later, and he was gone.

“That was possibly the weirdest thing I've ever done.” Dipper whispered.

“Why?”

“Circumstances, Mabel. Circumstances.”

“I guess it is kind of creepy...” She whispered back.

“Kind of? Where did he even get this journal? Why is the owner's name ripped out? Do you think he stole it?”

“No way! Bill wouldn't steal!”

He frowned, leaning back in his seat. “You're too trusting, Mabel.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

He sighed. “Anyway... I want to know where he got this journal.”

“Maybe he bought it? Or... Maybe he wrote it?”

“I don't think so. Why would he tear out part of the introduction if he wrote it?”

“Maybe because he was giving it to you!”

“Maybe...” He suddenly wished he had a pen. “Either way, I guess it's mine now...”

“Yeah!” She cheer-whispered, scooting closer. “We should go and take a look at this stuff! Make some new notes!” She gasped, patting her cheeks. “We could even _video tape_ it!”

“Video tape?”

“Yeah! Don't you have your camera and stuff? We could make a _web series_! Mabel and Dipper's Guide to Gravity Falls!”

Dipper smiled. “That... actually sounds fun.” He pulled out the journal, flipping through the pages absent-mindedly. “What would we tape first though?”

“Something easy!”

“ _Easy_...” He echoed, staring at one yellowed page in particular. Mabel budged over again, curious, and let out a big bright smile at the picture on the page. “Like... this one?”

“That's so _cute_! Look at the big eyes!”

“Alright, I'll get the camera, you find out where these guys live.”

“What if they live in a little village? A _sparkly_ village?” She gasped, kicking her feet against the chair in excitement. “What if they live in a crystal cave!”

Dipper shrugged at his sister's excitement. “Maybe. I'll be right back!” While Mabel was squealing over the possibilities, Dipper trumped upstairs to their room in the attic. He had been right, two weeks was _plenty_ of time for all their luggage to be shipped over, so there was no doubt where his camera was – right there, hidden under the underwear of bag number two.

He didn't even notice the slip of paper on his bag until it fell off.

' _These things aren't always what they seem, Pine Tree. Bring a bat and you'll see what I mean._ '

“Bill?” He flipped the paper over, but the rest of the space was blank. “But how...” Another flip, and he was facing the original message. “' _These things aren't always what they seem_ '... and... bring a bat?”

The creatures must be more dangerous than the journal says... He hesitates before grabbing the camera, resolute even as he folded the note and slid it carefully in his vest pocket. Bill wasn't telling him not to go, just to be prepared – and preparation is a Pines family gift, as far as Dipper was concerned.

“Whoa, Dipping-sauce, what's going on?”

“Preparations.”

She snorted, setting aside the journal. “Is that why you stole my entire collection of squishy-bears?”

“Necessary precautions, sister dear.”

“You look like a dork.”

“A dork that's going to survive _everything_ that forest is going to throw at us!” His appropriated stuffed-animal armor lost a bear. “I... might need better tape though. We'll start as soon as I'm ready.”

“What are you _preparing_ against, Bro-bro?”

He shrugged. “Bill left a note. Here.” He dug around in his vest pocket, pulling out the paper and handing it to his sister. She squinted at the lettering. “I figure we should be careful.”

Mabel grimaced, handing the note back so her brother could once again stuff it into his vest pocket. “I don't know, Dipper... if Bill says it's more dangerous than it looks, maybe we shouldn't go...”

“But he's, like, Grunkle Stan's business partner, right? If it were _really_ dangerous, wouldn't he stop us?”

“Well, maybe...”

“And besides, what could he possibly gain by sending two kids out in the woods with a bunch of weapons? It's not like we're going to be fighting _humans_ , so why bother?”

“I guess...”

He sighed. “You don't wanna come.”

“No, no, no! I do! It's just...” She wrung her hands and fiddled with the bottom of her sweater. “Maybe we could wait a little bit? I mean, you only got that journal _today_ , Dipper! Don't you think we should look through it some more first?”

They both glanced at the journal – it was just a book from this angle, an innocent book with leather binding and gold plates at the edges, papers jutting out here and there and giving off an air of integrity and promise. At a glance, Dipper knew he would spend hours upon hours every week for the next few months pouring over it's pages. He'd become obsessed in these things before – even gained a reputation for his conspiracy theories – but nothing like this. Across from him, Mabel saw a possible escape, and a dangerous one at that – not only had she read high and low on that one entry to find some mention of a village, but when she flipped to the next page...

She smiled. “C'mon, Dipdops! Let's finish Duck-tective, and start adventuring tomorrow!”

From the moment she smiled, the both knew she had Dipper beat. “Yeah, alright, we'll go adventuring _tomorrow_.” Mabel cheered, boosting herself up on the arm of Stan's recliner and flopping down onto the cushion, laughing.

Without much thought, Dipper found himself grabbing the journal before taking a seat at her feet, automatically opening to the first entry and beginning to read.

Duck-tective, eventually, ended, and within minutes of the credits rolling Grunkle Stan stormed the castle and kicked them both out with looming threats of a _Baby Fights_ movie marathon. Mabel tugged Dipper along, both of them mocking the man until he decided to give chase, running them ragged through the house and eventually into their room – the twins had no doubt Stan could get through the door if he wanted to, but they also didn't doubt his loyalty to his favorite show.

As the evening progressed into night, Mabel easily fell asleep to the hum of Dipper's desk lamp, her twin too consumed by the puzzles of the journal to even bother muttering.

“Oh.” Dipper squinted at the light leaking through the window – the same light that _definitely_ wasn't there twenty minutes ago – and groaned. “Oops.” At this he finally closed the journal ( _only a quarter of the way through how_ ) and sat up, stretching. “Man, _gotta_ start keeping track of my all-nighters, this can _not_ be healthy.”

“Report... on the western bow...”

“Go back to sleep, Mabel.”

“... Aye-aye, Corporal...” She turned to the wall, curled up, and dropped back into sleep. Her nose whistled a bit, almost making Dipper laugh.

He yawned. “Maybe I should... yeah.” He slid the journal under his pillow, keeping on hand, or at least one finger, on it as he lay down, not even bothering to kick away an errant notepad and matching pen. Decoding the journal was exhausting work, and required at least mediocre knowledge of different ciphers and symbols from who-knows-where that all somehow linked together. In some places the messages were coded in single-replacement: ABC coincides with DEF, and so on. But there are other places that he can't make heads or tails of, one of which spent most of the night driving him half mad.

His eyes slowly slid closed. Dipper Pines didn't give up, he just made... necessary tactical retreats. Like sleeping.

 _How're you liking the book, Pine Tree_?

He could never register when he was dreaming – Dipper always knew that upon waking up. Everything would seem as real as could be until he popped out of REM sleep feeling sheets rub against his skin with every sensation in the dream dulling in comparison.

Point being, he knew Bill's presence should have been surprising, but it seemed so normal that he just didn't care.

“ _It's amazing_!” He answered to an angular clump of yellow dream mass that he automatically computed as _Bill_. “ _There's stuff in there that I've never even heard of – crystals that alter growth, creatures that stalk people through the woods..._ ”

 _Yeah, that Hide-Behind knows how to party! Went drinking with him once – man, that was fun_! The shape morphed into a form that was vaguely more humanoid. _Sent an entire empire into a panic for a month_! _Good times_!

Dipper wasn't even fazed. “ _It does sound fun, too bad I can't legally drink yet._ ”

 _Like I said, Pine tree,_ Bill's form seemed to shrug. _That book is full of everything you could imagine, if you just look_! _What's to say you can't_?

“ _You mean there's something in here that could change my age, too_?”

 _Well, that – or, you know, you could just tweak your ID_! _Little things. Or big things–_ The angles of his mass became sharper. _For a price, of course_!

“ _That makes sense..._ ” Dipper carried himself – was he floating or walking? Did it matter? - over to a faded building, knowing Bill was close behind. “ _What sort of big things, though_? _What counts as 'big'_?”

 _Life-altering things, usually._ Bill answered, already floating underneath the doorway. _It's all in the wording, Pine Tree_! _A big thing would make you older_! _A little thing would edit your ID_! _See what I mean_?

“ _I think I get it, yeah_.”

 _Great_! _So don't be afraid to go looking when you need something_! _It's all right there for you to find_!

Dipper nodded at the energetic blob of yellow and angles. “ _Thanks, Bill_.”

 _Don't thank me yet, kid_! _If you need anything, I'll be watching_!

The yellow blob – now more of a triangle than anything else – pulsed with blinding light before vanishing, leaving Dipper blinking into empty air and wondering what just happened.

He shuddered. For some reason, that last sentiment seemed more like a threat than anything.

 


	3. First Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gnomes suck.

“ABORT! ABORT!” The walkie-talkie screeched in his ear, and even with the volume turned down he could hear Mabel's screaming. “NOT FRIENDLY! NOT EVEN _CLOSE_ TO FRIENDLY!”

Yeah, Dipper figured as much, which was exactly why he had already been driving the Mystery Cart in the general direction of the gnome village two whole minutes before his sister could check in. He flicked on the speaker, located where a normal radio would have been. “Mabel, where are you!”

“THEY TOOK MY BAT, DIPPER!” The sheer amount of static almost destroyed the message.

“I'll get you another one! Where are you!”

“THE UH, THE VILLAGE, I'M RIGHT OUTSIDE THE-” There was a loud clattering, and after a moment of static Dipper could hear her again. “- DUMB BUTTHEADS LET – WAY I'M – MARRY YOU – DIPPER COME ON!”

“I'm coming! Just hold on!”

Another clatter. “- WORRY, I'LL TAKE GOOD CARE OF THIS FOR YOU.”

Dipper grit his teeth and, bracing himself, sped the cart straight into the village.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Mabel sighed and plopped down on the floor next to the recliner. Dipper carefully handed her an ice bag around his aching shoulder, and she gratefully applied it to her head with only a wince of protest. Her brother took a few moments to stretch, arms bending back behind his head, and nearly tripped himself when the resulting crack sounded. Mabel somehow still had the energy to giggle at his somewhat proud expression as he fell next to her, bumping shoulders.

“Whoa.” Stan raised an eyebrow from his seat at the table. “What's with you two? Get hit by a bus?”

The twins exchanged glances.

“Never again.”

“ _Never_ again.” Mabel shivered. “Sorry I got distracted, Bro-bro.”

Dipper grunted. “Eh, it wasn't your fault.” He sent a glare to his open vest pocket, where the journal was stashed. It still looked so innocent, tucked away as if it didn't lead them into a life-threatening situation. “I should have listened when you said to be careful. Still...” He sneered at the wall. “ _Why_ did he draw them so friendly-looking? Some sort of sick joke? Did he _know_ this would happen?”

“The Author?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe...” After a moment of consideration, she sighed again. “Maybe the Author is a big doofus and never actually met a gnome!”

Dipper snickered. “How did they get that whole 'marry you' idea, anyway?”

“Shush-hush! I don't want to talk about it!”

“Why not?”

“Because!” She didn't have enough juice in her to push him away, so she settled with tapping his shoulder with a fist. “Why don't _you_ tell me what got you so confused while we were driving?”

He bit at the inside of his lip. Why _had_ he gotten distracted? He was driving, they went over a bump, and then... He saw the big gnome, watched it yank out a giant pine like it was _nothing_ , knew it was coming straight for the car, coming straight for them, the tip was going to hit Mabel in the shoulder and break through... but he blinked, the sun was in his eyes, and the next second the tree seemed to change course and embed itself in the ground not a foot from Mabel's side of the cart. It was impossible, he didn't even have time to swerve to save her, he was so sure he would be driving her to the hospital, have to carry her into the waiting room, and felt the greatest shock of fear he had ever experienced.

But it didn't happen. He took a breath. It didn't happen.

“... I don't know. Are you okay?”

She made a face. “Yeah, just a few bruises. Where did you learn to drive like that, anyway?”

“It's a golf cart, Mabel, it's not that hard.”

She gasped and shot a hand out, but carefully lowered it with a groan when the sudden movement sent a spike of pain through her head. “You have to teach me.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to drive the cart!”

“It's easy, you don't need me.”

“But I _want_ you to be with me! We can drive it to the Diner!”

“Greasy's?” He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I guess. But ah...” He shot a glance to his overly-scratched arm and ran a finger over the grass stain that covered it in patches. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” She agreed.

“Okay, now I really want to know,” To their surprise, Grunkle Stan still seemed to be listening in. He was leaning forward in his wooden chair, newspaper slightly crumpled and in the same stay-at-home outfit that he always wore after work hours. “What's all this about gnomes and marriage? Mabel, sweetie, do I need to punch a runt?”

The twins coughed on their laughter. Regular laughter was too painful. “No thanks, Grunkle Stan, we took care of it!”

“You sure? Because I can do that.”

“We're fine!” Mabel shouted, grinning. “You can have the next one!”

“That sounds like the best idea I've ever heard, kid.” They were all smiling now, and Stan flicked out his paper once again and dove into an article. “Hope you know I'll hold you to that. Dipper, there's Disney rip-offs on channel seven.”

“Thanks Grunkle Stan.”

“And go take a shower. Geez, kid, I don't know what you two got yourselves into, but those clothes are never recovering. Never.”

Mabel pouted at her yellow rose sweater. “Yeah...” The poor thing got torn in the fight, shredded when she was caught by a tree branch, and covered in grass stains and a few wood chips from when the golf cart crashed. All that added up resulted in a very dirty and ragged sweater with half as many sleeves as it originally had. Mabel stuck a finger through a loosened stitch, making a popping sound when her fingertip appeared on the other side. “I'll make a new one.”

“Did you even bring that color yarn?” Dipper poked at the remnants of her left sleeve.

Mabel's nose scrunched. “Maybe? I know I packed yellow, but...”

“We can get more in town tomorrow.” Dipper decided. “Now where's the remote...”

“Do they have a crafts store in Gravity Falls?”

“If they don't, we'll drive to some other city. There's bound to be something off the freeway.” Stan grunted, flipping a page.

“Got it! Channel seven, channel seven...”

“But a Gravity Falls craft store! You live here, Grunkle Stan, have you ever seen one?”

“I don't go into town unless I can't avoid it, kid.”

“Aw, come on, a _mermaid_ ripoff? Why couldn't it have been literally anything else.” Dipper flopped back in his chair.

“You're life is lacking the finer pleasures.” Mabel's poker face was flawless enough that Stan had to hide a smile behind his paper. “And mermaids are great, Dipper, what's your problem?”

“C'mon, a mermaid wants to go on land because she's got a _crush_? What about her family? How's she gonna support herself? How does she even know the guy likes her back? There's too many assumptions!”

“She loved the land, Dipper, not the guy! Didn't you see her collection?”

Dipper grunted, glaring at the screen as a blonde version of Ariel flit around the water with her fish side-kick. “Yeah, I guess... It's still a big decision to make on _very_ little information!”

Mabel shrugged, massaging her shoulder with one hand. “So?”

“So? It's just not smart! I would never be able to do that!”

“Sure you would!”

“Not if I had time to think it through.”

“Maybe.” She grinned. “Or _maybe_ you just haven't found anyone you would do that for yet!”

“What?” He sent a confused look at her smile before realizing just what she was getting at. “Mabel, I already told you, it's probably not going to happen. Ever. At least not _here_.”

“What about back in Piedmont, huh? Didn't you have a crush on that girl Sarah?”

“That was a while ago, I grew out of it, we're not talking about this.”

“But you guys were so _cute_!”

“Not talking. What are we talking about? I don't know, I think I've temporarily lost my hearing.”

“And Valentines day...!”

“Mabel, we were _ten_! It was weird!”

She huffed. “Still adorable.”

“Still not talking.”

“Bro-bro, it's my job to find out who you like! You are, like, one of the least romantic people I've ever met, Dipper, if you get a crush, you're gonna need help.”

“I'll be fine on my own.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not!”

“Will too!” He frowned at her ongoing grin. “Besides, if I ask for your help, you'd spend more time screaming than _actually helping_. I can handle a few bad starts.”

“Okay, that's true, but have you considered _this_!” She fished out what looked like a credit card from who-knows-where and shoved it in Dipper's face before he had the chance to lean away.

“... Mabel, this is just a cardboard cutout of and I.D. with the words 'Romance Expert' in... sparkly glue? No, glitter pen.”

“Exactly!”

He snorted, handing back the card. “We'll go into town tomorrow.”

“And find you a girlfriend!”

“Or just your yarn.”

“Or both! I like both, both sounds like fun.”


	4. Give Me A Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait, there's a plot? Yes. Yes there is.

When Dipper found himself blinking awake to the sun stretching across the floor of the attic – how had the sun gotten there, had he slept in? - Mabel was already downstairs. How could he tell? First of all, there was no slightly-snoring lump flopped around and/or on top of his sister's bed, and he could almost swear he smelled the usual amount of smoke from breakfast... which also meant they wouldn't be heading to Greasy's until lunchtime unless Grunkle Stan deemed his Stancakes inedible.

That second option had always been a long shot, considering the cakes weren't that bad, just... extremely unnerving. Slowly eating the projected face of one of his favorite relatives is weird and he would rather, you know, _not_ do that.

On second thought, maybe he should sleep a little more.

“DIPPER!”

The boy couldn't even find the energy to groan. _So close_... He rubbed at heavy eyes before squinting at the many bright posters and cut-outs over Mabel's bed in an effort to wake up. “YEAH?”

“GET DOWN HERE BRO-BRO!”

Dipper heaved a sigh and obediently stood. _Obediently_ became his tired mind's new favorite word – why are people so impressionable after sleep? There had to be a study on it somewhere, right? Maybe he should look into that, figure out if there's a way to just... well, not avoid sleeping, he's already tried that, but to make it so he's less of a pushover while waking up. There has to be something, there's always something.

This train of thought distracted him so thoroughly that he didn't even register going down the stairs, turning in to the dining room, or pulling up a chair.

Those thoughts sputtered to an uneasy halt when the first bite of unnecessarily human-themed pancakes hit his mouth and he realized that the seat next to him wasn't empty.

It still took him a second to go through role: Stan's at the stove, Bill's sitting next to him, Mabel's across the table and smiling, of course she's smiling, she barely ever stops smiling-

Oh.

“Uh,” His eyes darted to Bill, then down to his old t-shirt and boxer pajama combo, and he got the sense that his face was heating up _really_ quickly. “... Good morning?”

Mabel made a loud snorting sound from her seat. “You didn't even realize he was there!”

Dipper sent her a look, and forced his eyes to flick quickly to the window in feigned curiosity. “Hey Mabel, is that a Unicorn?”

“What, where?” While she sped to the window, Dipper took it upon himself to slide her half-empty plate to his side of the table. When she turned back around, he was slowly chewing on a very carefully cut piece of her breakfast. “Hey! You jerk!”

He grinned, shrugged, and slid her plate back to where it belonged. “All's fair.”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

Grunkle Stan thwacked Dipper with his morning newspaper – Dipper spotted the spatula in the mans other hand as he flinched and decided to be grateful for the small mercy. “Finish your Stancakes, argue later.” Cipher laughed at that, earning a glare from Stan. “And you. How long are you going to loiter around my house?”

“Patience is not your strong suit, Pines.” The paper was leveled with Bill's face, and he leaned back in response, holding up both hands. “Alright, alright! I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes, Fez, but ah...”

His focused shifted to the boy beside him, and Dipper suddenly felt very small.

“I need Pine Tree here to help me with something.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Dipper found himself saying. “Can we finish breakfast first?”

Mabel gulped down her food. “Maybe you can come with us after!”

“Come with you?”

“We're heading into town,” Dipper scooped up a few bits of syrup-logged stancake. “Mabel ripped her sweater, so we're hoping there's an art store nearby.”

“If there isn't...”

“Mabel, I told you, you don't have enough stuff to make your own art store.”

“I can try!”

Bill laughed. “As great as that idea sounds, Shooting Star, I'm preeeety sure there's some kind of store that suits your needs.” At Mabel's mumbled 'drat!', he continued. “But who says you can't come back and buy out the place when you're older!”

With the way Mabel looked at Bill, you would think he was on a heavenly quest. “You are the best kind of person.”

“I would disagree, but eh, I'm a sucker for flattery.” With that, he stole a piece of breakfast from Dippers plate and popped it in his mouth. “So,” he garbled. “What'chu two need at 'he art store?”

“Other than yarn? Uh,” Successfully distracted from his stolen food, Dipper ticked off his fingers. “Probably some glitter, pens, a few notebooks -”

“Glitter pens!”

“You already have glitter pens. Um... a few paint brushes, just to be safe -”

“You can never have enough paintbrushes.”

“- And... I think that's it.”

“Oh! Can we get some canvases too?”

“Nothing bigger than your hand.”

Mabel pouted. Bill took it upon himself to reach over and pat her shoulder. “We all must struggle for our art.”

“Art is pain. No one understands.”

“So do you want to come?”

“Sure!” The man brightened, as did the girl he was currently consoling. They finished breakfast quickly, considering Dipper barely ate anything and Mabel had already eaten her full not long after her brother came down. The twins rushed off to their room to change and prepare for the day, leaving Bill and Stan in the kitchen.

There was a few moments of blissful silence.

“You had better not hurt those kids.”

Bill couldn't even pretend to be surprised at the threat. “I don't have an interest in them, Fez.”

“Yeah?” Stan frowned at the wall and began to clean up the used plates. “Why did I see that old journal hid in Dipper's vest yesterday?”

“It took you that long?”

“I don't have eyes _everywhere_ , Cipher. You gave it to him, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“He came in the other day, he and his sister both, beaten and bruised, covered in muck from the woods.” Neither man chose to show any emotion at that. “Tell me, how far will they go?”

Bill paused. “... They'll be more cautious after that. I can't say much more.”

“What do I have to give to keep them safe?”

“They've never been safe, Pines. They don't want to be safe.”

“What. Do I have. To give.”

“Nothing you can afford to.”

Stan grit his teeth. “Are you telling me those two kids are destined to _die_ in these woods?”

“No.” Bill's voice was hard. “But they will be fighting whatever safety I can give them every step of the way – Stan Pines, this information is free, so you had better listen to it.” Stan pursed his lips. “Let's say you pay for it. I give them protection, and they enjoy it, for a while. Then they discover what you did, and what I did in return, and they fight.” Another pause. “They fight, and they get past me one time – only one – and suddenly they have no idea what they're up against.”

“And they die.”

“And they die. You don't want that.”

“No,” Stan agreed. “I don't.”

“On the other hand...” A smile. “They go out on their own, they take every single precaution they can; they _learn_. You've said yourself that you can't keep them from the supernatural forever, Fez, we both know that's true. It's safer that they learn _now_.”

A few more moments of silence. A bump was heard upstairs, followed by muffled shouting.

“That journal had you in it. They're going to figure it out.”

Bill sighed. “I know.”

“They trust you.”

It wasn't a plea, it was an accusation. Bill straightened. “Yes.”

“Don't let them trust you with the supernatural.”

“I won't shirk them, Pines.”

“But others _will_.” He turned, and they stared each other down. “You're going to be the first they come across. Make sure they learn their limits before they meet another one.”

A breath. “Betrayal won't be taken lightly. Especially not by Pine Tree.”

“From what I've seen, you care about those kids almost as much as I do.” Stan growled. “As much as it hurts to say it, I know you'll be there when I'm not. You can earn trust back.”

Bill took a moment to think it over.

“Is this a favor, or a deal?”

Stan scoffed. “Are you tellin' me there's a difference?”

“Nah. What are you giving me?”

“Give me a minimum.”

“Minimum price means minimum results.”

He groaned. “Fine, name your price.”

“I want access to the house. At all times.”

“... Done.”

Bill grinned, bouncing out of his seat and offering a hand. “Well, looks like we've got a deal!”

“But,” Bill slumped. “I can ban you from individual rooms whenever I want.” Cipher almost rolled his eyes – Pines has been dealing with him too long, he's actually gotten good at naming terms. “Each ban can separately be lifted if Dipper, Mabel, or my safety is at risk and you need to enter a room to help us. The same applies to the fridge.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Deal with it, Bucko. So?”

Bill gave a long suffering sigh. “Deal.”

They shook on it.

* * *

Mabel spluttered her toothpaste into the sink, quickly washing it down with a torrent of tap water. “Hey bro?”

Dipper hummed in response, toothbrush still in his mouth.

“Did Grunkle Stan ever tell you about Bill?”

He shook his head, leaned forward, and spat out his own toothpaste. “No,” He washed it down the drain. “I'm pretty sure they're business partners, though.”

“But... it's Grunkle Stan.”

They frowned at each other. “... Good point. Why does he trust Bill so much? He doesn't even work here!”

“Could they be friends?”

“I don't think so.”

“Then why does Bill come over here all the time?”

“I don't know.” Mabel almost sighed – she knows what happens next. It happens every time she's ever heard that particular sentence come out of her brother's mouth. “But I'm gonna find out.” They put their toothbrushes away, and Dipper immediately grabbed his hairbrush. “He said he needed me for something, right? I'll ask then.”

Hairbrushes only made her hair more unruly, so Mabel voted to sit on the rim of the tub and wait for her brother. “Do you think he has a store in town?”

“Maybe. Yeah... yeah, he doesn't work here, but they're still business partners, so he has to get income from _somewhere_. And he's been into town before – he said there's an art store there. Maybe we can find it!” He grabbed his hat, setting it's blue rim solidly over his birth mark. “And then we can figure out how he got the journal, maybe even find out who the author is!”

“And then we can ask him why he drew gnomes so friendly.”

“And how he even found out about the gnomes. Did you notice? No supernatural investigators, no major news stories, the only thing people notice here that's supernatural is the Mystery Shack.” Dipper lead the way back to their room. “Most of the stuff here is fake! How can no one know?”

“Oh! Do you think we're like The Chosen Ones? That would be so cool!” Dipper grabbed his vest and stuffed the journal into a pocket. “Like a fantasy movie! 'Mabel and Dipper, twin blessed by fairies when they were born, traveling to the place where it all began!' Action! Adventure! Romance!”

“No romance.”

“ _Romance_!” She grinned. “Heroic creatures! Daring sword fights! Don't you want to have a sword fight, Dipper?”

“As cool as sword fighting is, I don't even think I know how to hold one right.”

“And at the end, we bravely face off against the evil mastermind that threatens the entire town! And we BLAST him with magic!” She jumps off the bed and shouts. “And we win!”

“Magic?” Dipper shoots her a look. “I don't think there's anything in here that tells us how to do magic.”

She shrugs. “Have you looked?”

“Uh... well, no. But it's more about creatures than magic.”

“What about spells?”

“Maybe.” They walked through the house, trumping down the stairs. “I'll look later.”


	5. Chatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *waves arms* WHERE DID THIS COME FROM????

“Alright, Pine Tree, what have you found?”

Dipper started at the sudden question. “Found?”

Bill grinned, sending a glance back at the shack. “Fez tells me you got into some trouble yesterday. So, what happened?”

“Oh, uh, that.” He rubbed the back of his neck – this was supposed to be an interrogation about Bill, not him. “We found the page about the gnomes? I figured it would be easy to start, you know, looking into things. But ah, Mabel kind of... got involved?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she met this guy Norman before we could go out and, well, he turned out to be a bunch of them in disguise, and led her back to the village, and we got into a fight.”

A hum. “Well, obviously everything turned out fine. What did they want with your sister?”

Dipper made a face. “They wanted to _marry_ her.”

Bill scoffed. Gnomes. “That's not really unusual. They try and kidnap everyone that looks even slightly feminine. Too bad Shooting Star doesn't have a mind for business though – she could have gotten that art store of hers a lot sooner!”

“I guess.”

“And how did you find her?”

“Oh, she had a walky-talkie with her – Soos got it on the same frequency as the cart, so she led me right to the village.”

Bill grinned. “You know what, kid? You're pretty smart.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Transparent, though.” His smile widened. “So, you wanted to ask me something?”

Dipper's eyes widened. “How did you-”

“Pine Tree, I am a _master_ of the mind,” Bill stood in front of the boy, looming. “And every bit of your behavior is telling me that you want something. So, what is it?”

Dipper gulped, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with the man, but ultimately failing. “How do you know Grunkle Stan?”

He watched as Bill's eyebrows went up in surprise, and then lower. Dipper had seen this technique before – Bill's face went completely blank, emotionless, giving nothing away. His Grunkle Stan did that at family reunions – every time someone asked a question, everything would shut down for a moment before twisting into a convincing smile and voice morphing into that of a con-man.

Bill wasn't family, though. And anyone that could block out emotions so easily sent Dipper on edge.

After a moment of this, Bill cracked a smile. “You want to hear the entire story?”

“... Yes.”

He dimly noted that the mans' teeth were a bit sharper than he expected. “What are you going to give me for it?”

This was a bad idea. “What do you want?”

“How about we trade stories. I tell you how I met Stan, and you tell me why everyone calls you Dipper.”

Bad idea, bad idea, why did he ever go through with this. “I don't know...”

“Sure you do! Come on, Pine Tree,” Bill held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

 _It feels like I'm selling my soul._ Their hands met. “Alright, deal.”

The man chuckled, and the sound sent a chill of regret down Dipper's spine.

* * *

“Kid?” The girl looked up from her project, being sure not to let her wet nails touch anything. “What gives, I thought the three of you were in town already?”

She shrugged at her Grunkle, turning back to her nails. “Bill and Dipper are still doing guy stuff, so I'm waiting 'till they're done.”

“Still?” Stan frowned, stepping to look over into the back yard. His grand-niece was right – the two of them were still standing there, talking. The sight of them sent a quick spike of fear through him – Dipper couldn't have found out already, why didn't Cipher _wait_ to carry out the deal, this can't end well, have to save him, get him away – but those feelings were quickly trampled. They're just talking. Nothing's happened yet.

Instead of doing all that 'rescue' jazz, he grunted and flopped down next to Mabel, who was finishing the first coat of deep purple nail polish on her pinkie. “'Guy stuff'. Feh. Those two probably don't even know what that means.”

Mabel laughed. “Yeah, Dipper's too much of a _nerd_.”

“Nah, honey, he's a _dork._ There's a difference.”

“Really?”

“Trust me sweetie. He may act like a nerd with all his,” He wiggled his fingers. “ _Math_ and such, but he's as dorky as they come.”

She hummed in agreement, moving on to her other hand with a practiced skill. “Hey Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“What do you do when we're not here?”

He thought back, considering everything he's been forced into over the years, but the resounding answer to her question still summarized as ' _not much_ '. “Eh, I mind the shop, evade my taxes, run Bill out of the house every other week. You know, normal stuff.”

“You mean Bill's not always around?”

“Nah. He'll probably leave me alone as soon as you two go back home in a few months.” They shared a smile. “He likes you kids – guy's got a knack for finding trouble, so he'll probably be hanging around for a while.” He shrugs. “Like an introduction. Freshman hazing, yadda yadda yadda. I don't know how it works. Don't ask me.”

“So... he likes us because we're new?”

“Sort of. Listen, I – I'm not an authority on this. Cipher works weird, and he gets into trouble, and he'll probably get _you two_ into trouble. But all in all, he's pretty much harmless on his own.”

First coat done, Mabel moved back to her other hand for the second coat.

* * *

“I wasn't always centered in Gravity Falls, you know. Sure, I started out here, but this large-scale equivalent of a hole in the wall got boring after a while. Some people got mad, and I made some trouble, and they eventually ran me out. So I went over to Egypt!”

Bill grinned. “Beautiful place, Egypt. Not so much dirt huts and pyramids all over the place like they show the tourists, but still a pretty sweet setup. The tourist traps were my favorite part, though – all these Americans and Europeans milling around, wanting the full experience, buying into the cheapest junk Egyptians could spare to throw at them, and not a single one remembered to bring sunscreen! It was great!”

“Now those were the days – I was a _king_ there, Pine Tree. The best con-man in that section of the world. All the others _worshiped_ me. But I got too much attention, and got ran out of there too.”

“Next was London. London was pretty great too, but not my style. Everything's too in-your-face, there was no real competition! I got bored!”

“But what do you know, just when I'm about to go mad from boredom, here comes a message from Stan Pines himself, saying he needs my help! So I run back here, come and meet him, and he says his brother's gone missing!”

Dipper gasped at that. “His...?”

“Shush-sh, Pine Tree, I'm not done yet.” Bill taps the tip of his nose. “So the other Pines is missing, so what? It doesn't have anything to do with me! But Fez says it has _everything_ to do with me, because he's hiring me to find the old geezer! I say 'what are you going to give me for it'?” He laughs.

“I can't really tell the details, but we make a deal, and Fez sends me off to who knows where to go track down his brother.”

“Did you ever find him?”

Bill sobers. “... Yes. I did. So, my side of the deal is complete! I come back to Gravity Falls, Fez and I have a _long_ talk, and I eventually set up shop! The end!”

Dipper splutters. “The- the end! But how did Stan know about you? What happened to his brother? What about the journal?”

Bill laughs again, patting the boys head. “ _Those_ are stories for another time, kid. Now...” A smile. “Do you want to tell me your story now, or later?”

The boy stiffens, one hand going to the brim of his hat in a knee-jerk reaction. It's not that big of a deal, he thinks. Bill wouldn't use it against him, right? Right? “... Later.”

The man hums in understanding. “But you _will_ tell me!” Dipper nods at that, earning yet another smile. “Great! Now let's see what Shooting Star's up to!”

“Bill?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a shop in town?”

Oh boy. Bill isn't sure if he should cheer or groan – this kid is moving a bit too fast for his liking. “Yup! Wanna see? I've got merchandise!”

“Can me and Mabel visit next time we're in town?”

“Sure thing, Pine Tree! Just don't let Fez know.”

Easy enough. “Okay.”

They walk around to the front of the shack, and easily spot Mabel and Stan on the porch – Dipper almost burst out laughing at his Grunkle's expression. Judging by how happy Mabel looks, he must have agreed to do something; a closer look at his sisters nails is a clear giveaway. He wonders what color she'll decide on. Probably something to match his hat.

“Mabel! Are you ready to go?”

She grins and hops off her seat. “Yeah! Let's go! Grunkle Stan, we're borrowing the Mystery Cart!”

“That doesn't sound like something a responsible adult should let you do.”

The twins shared a grin. “Good thing you're a Grunkle?”

“... Fair enough.”

“Ooh, do you think there's a candy store?”

“We can get candy at the grocery store if there isn't.”

“No worries, Shooting Star, I know there's a candy store somewhere around. We just have to find it!”

“We can go on a quest! A quest for _candy_!”

“A quest for an art store, a quest for a candy store, are there any other quests?”

“A quest for-”

“Not romance.”

“How did you know I was going to say romance? What if I said 'fluffy animals'?”

“Because you always say romance. And save 'fluffy animals' for another day.”

“I don't know, hunting down some fluffy abominations could be fun!”

“See, Bill agrees with me!”

“You weren't going to say 'fluffy animals'. It doesn't count.”

“Sure it does!”

“It does.”

“... You guys are ganging up on me.”

“What? No way, we're just having fun!”

“I can say without a doubt that we are winning. Shooting Star, what should our team name be?”

“No team names, we don't have team names.”

“Ooh, can we be... Sparkle Tops! I'm the sparkle, and you have the top hat!”

“How about... Starry Eyes?”

“Shooting Suits!”

“Dream Sweaters!”

“Oh wow, those are all great! But which one...?”

“Team Sparkle Tops, Team Starry Eyes, Team... Shooting Suits? Or Team Dream Sweaters.”

“What do you think, Dipping-sauce?”

“I don't know, the last one.”

“... Team Dream Sweaters it is!”


	6. Your Least Favorite Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a plot point, I swear.

The sun bore down on the trio through the torn canvas roof of the cart as they drove to the outskirts of the town. It was warm, almost too muggy if not for the constant breeze that whispered along the tall trees and shorter grass. Mabel wanted to drive, and she got her wish – after a few false starts, and with Bill eventually switching with Dipper and moving to the back seat, they were making good pace.

Dipper leaned his head on the dash, trusting his sister not to give him a concussion. That conversation – the deal, he remembered, and almost flinched at the term - … well, holding up his side of it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but it would still be tough. Next to no one outside his closest family knew about his birth mark; he learned to keep quiet about it after his religious nut of a cousin started either trying to worship him or suddenly turned around and began cursing his name. It was a weird time, and Dipper was only around five, but it was scary enough that he picked up on the problem pretty quickly.

No one outside family knew. Anyone that did has had years to forget about it.

But Bill's not a religious nut, right? If he was, he never let on – besides, Grunkle Stan doesn't usually let religious types stay around for too long. Dipper honestly thinks the man is afraid of people that try to convert him. The thought almost makes him laugh – Stan flinching away from a little girl holding out a flier for mass. It would be kind of sad, just a little bit, but mostly funny.

The point is, does he trust Bill?

Can he trust Bill?

That chill he gets whenever the man looks at him – there's something truly unsettling about his eyes, Dipper realizes. Sure, he picked up on the clothing when they first met, and then the dimples, and then the sharp teeth, but... he racks his brain, but surprisingly enough, Dipper can't remember for the life of him what color eyes the man sitting behind him has.

That's... that's never happened before.

He risks a glance behind him.

 _Green?_ He flicks his gaze around a bit, trying not to be obvious, and eventually landed back on Bill's eyes. _No, now they're purple! What's going on?_

“Need something, Pine Tree?”

“No,” Dipper turned back around. “It's nothing.”

For some reason, all he can think of is _yellow_.

Can he trust Bill?

Can he trust Bill?

Can he trust Bill?

Is Bill even human?

Mabel suddenly lets off the gas pedal and bodily slams on the breaks, and the cart skids. Dipper has just enough sense to have had one hand on the nearest hold for the entire ride, so only half of him goes flying out.

“We're here!”

“Ow.” Bill re-adjusts his seat, rubbing his head, and pouts at his sister when she starts giggling. No, of course this guy's human. What else would he be?

“Come on, let's go.”

“To the art store!” She hopped out of her seat, turning off the engine as she went.

* * *

“ _It's mine! Give it back!”_ It's not yours, it was never yours. _“It is mine! We haven't made an agreement yet, you can't do this!”_ Except I can – besides, trust me when I say you're better off without it. _“I don't trust you any farther than I can throw you,_ now gimme back that journal _!”_

He should have carried those dumb kids back to the Shack as soon as he realized. Time heals all wounds, they say, but as he forced himself to blandly take stock of the pastel blue that seared into his eyes at every turn, he knew this particular wound was still festering. It was disgusting, how little people change in their lives, but this particular instance takes the cake. That little brat didn't even have the brain power to choose another color to be obsessed with.

“I don't like it.” He sniffed, catching a giant whiff of cologne by accident and nearly choking on it. “Ugh, my nose, Shooting Star! How long do we have to stay here?”

She was looking around too much to even bother skipping. “C'mon, Bill, isn't this place cool?”

“My _nose_ is _burning_ , kid.”

“Oh, don't be such a baby!”

“Yeah, I mean, aren't you curious?” Pine Tree was looking around too, the traitor. “It's like a bizarre version of the Mystery Shack!”

“Don't insult the Shack like that, kid. What would Fez say?”

“He'd probably go nuts if he knew we were here.”

Bill groaned – only a little bit of it was pure theatrics. “Can't we go back to shopping?”

Shopping would be better. Almost anything would be better than this. He didn't know exactly what _this_ was yet but he was pretty sure he didn't like it. At all. Not even a little bit. “We're not going anywhere until I see what's got everyone so crazy about this guy!” She led them to three seats in the second to last row of the tent. “Did you _see_ Sheriff Blubs?”

“Yeah, he usually only gets that excited when Durland comes back from vacation.”

“How'd you know that, Pine Tree?”

“Grunkle Stan described it to me,” The boy shivered. “ _In detail._ ”

Bill was careful not to breath in any fumes as he laughed this time. “Durland and Blubs. I can _guarantee_ that they dream about each other.”

“They're, like, _together_ together, right?”

“I don't know, Mabel, I don't think they wear any rings.”

“They're steady. Probably holding the ceremony in the next year or two to seal the deal. Did you know it's legal to marry woodpeckers here?”

Dipper made a face. “Really? Why?”

“Some woman got cursed – either that, or she was a Were. Anyway, she could turn into a woodpecker, fell in love with some human, and there you have it.” Bill shrugged.

“That's the most amazing story I've ever heard!”

“Wait, there's multiple species of Were?”

“'Course there is, Pine Tree! Or wait -” A slow smile spread across his face. “You haven't gotten to that page yet, have you?”

“What page. Tell me. I need to know.”

Whoops, bad idea. Bill hastily forced the journal back into the kids vest pocket, shushing him when he complained. “Not here!”

The action grabbed Mabels' attention. “What? Why not?”

“There's a _reason_ I don't like this place! Townsfolk don't matter, they don't care, but if you want to keep that dumb book then keep it _away_ from the Gleefuls!”

“Gleeful?”

The lights went out.

“ _Hello Gravity Falls_!” If it were possible, the man's face would have soured even more. That being said, he did quickly settle into his seat, pulling off his hat so as to avoid whatever attention the accessory might bring. Mabel is already entranced by the performance, and Dipper wonders if he's ever actually seen Bill without his hat on before.

They sat through the routine. It was cheap – like the Mystery Shack – and silly – like the Mystery Shack – and pretty much not at all worrying. The townspeople ate it up, and Mabel ate it up as well, gasping with surprise and happiness whenever the performer, a well-dressed kid, involved her in the performance. She was picked as the crowd volunteer more often than necessary, but it wasn't doing any harm.

For Bill, this event could have easily been the worst thing that has happened in the last five years.

Gleeful. Lil' Gideon took a liking to one of the twins, one of the only people in Gravity Falls that he willingly bestowed with his protection. The kids were interesting – hell, even entertaining – and Gleeful was going to _ruin it_. From a personal level, this was an attack, and in business, it was a threat and an insult all wrapped up in the hypothetical equivalent of ugly dollar store wrapping paper. It was distasteful. It was _horrible_.

It was interesting.

And if anything could bring about the death of Bill Cipher, it would be something interesting.

Thankfully, the ten-year-old had paid no mind to Bill's presence, too caught up in admiring the mans' charge as if she were the sun peeking through the clouds of a storm. It would have almost been cute, if he didn't hate the little menace so much. So he made the decision to let the kid have at it.

“That was great!”

“This is a bigger rip-off than the Mystery Shack.” They were smiling.

“Yeah, but did you see Gideon? His little dance was so cute!”

“You're too easily impressed.”

Bill didn't say a word, steering the kids toward the candy store, as promised, and only walked a little faster when he felt eyes on the trio.

* * *

“Soos!”

Dipper perked up at the name, boosting off his bed and rushing downstairs to find his sister and best bro-friend hugging it out in the living room. He laughed and joined in. “Soos! Man, I haven't seen you in weeks! What happened?”

“Sorry dudes,” A meaty hand covered each of their heads and ruffled at their curls and hats, respectively. “Abuelita had some health problems, so Stan let me off for a bit.”

Mabel hummed. “Is she alright?”

“Eh, it depends completely on ones' perception.” He made a 'so so' gesture with the hand that was on her head. “But she says she'll be fine, so I guess it's okay.”

“Man, that's great. Are you staying, or do you still have to take care of her?”

“We should be good to go from here on out, dudes!”

The twins cheered.

In the other room, Stan rolled his eyes at the excess of noise, covering his hearing aid with one hand out of habit and taking another sip of the same coffee he'd been drinking for the last hour. The window he faced was bright with late morning sunlight, but bugs had already replaced birds in terms of noise.

The doorbell rang, and he groaned.

“Somebody get the door!”

“I'll get it!”

He huffed. It was probably Bill again, the freeloader. In terms of the deal, apparently 'anytime he wants' meant 'every single day', and now Stan can't walk around his own home without tripping over something of Bill's – or Bill himself, since he insists on making himself a nuisance. He gets why the kids love it though. They're at that age, and even after explaining some things to Mabel, they still insist on spending time with the menace because they think nothing will go wrong.

Another sip of coffee. Well, something will go wrong, he thought with a hint of guilt. It won't entirely be Bill's fault when it comes, but it's coming.

“ _Gideon_!”

What.

“What.” He frowned, boosting himself into a standing position. “Did I just hear that rat's name? Dipper?”

“Uh...” He paused. “No?”

“So you're saying that little cretin isn't here.”

“Noooo?”

Stan crossed his arms. “Is your sister miming to you from the door.”

“... No?”

He growled, not even bothering to round the corner. “Gideon, you little creep! Get off my property!”

There was hushed bickering, and from his great-nephew's facial expressions, it wasn't looking good. Eventually the door closed again, and Mabel stepped into the living room. “Grunkle Stan, what the heck! Why are you so against Gideon?”

“He's competition, sweetie, and no one that lives under my roof is gonna be _fraternizing_ with the Gleefuls!”

“Maybe you just don't know them, huh? Maybe they're actually nice and you don't like them 'cause you're a big _poophead_!”

She said it as if she were swearing like a sailor – considering the circumstances, she might have well been. It still didn't faze him. “No. More. Gideon. I've had nothin' but trouble since that guy came to town, and I am _not_ letting him make trouble in the Shack!” Mabel huffed at him, but he paid it no mind, looking to her brother. “Where's Soos?”

“In the kitchen.”

He paced into the hall, turning toward the kitchen but instead hiding behind the corner. Waiting.

“... Dipper?”

“... I'll help.”

“You will? Thank you, thank you!”

“Alright, alright! Just make sure you come back by... let's say five. I'll just say you went for a walk in town, okay?”

“You're the best, bro-bro.”

Stan sighed. … That should speed things up a bit.


	7. Filled with Glee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything revolves around Gideon, including Mabel's slow descent into insanity.

“It's not a _date_ date, it's just -” She skillfully avoided the face Bill shot at her, but couldn't quite cringe away fast enough to escape her brother's worried glance as well. Gosh, why to boys have to be so meddlesome! “He looked pitiful that I thought, you know, I'd throw him a bone.”

“Mabel, guys don't work like that.” Bill could only grumble his agreement to that, still trying to pin Mabel with the dirtiest glare he could muster given the situation. Dipper continued. “He's gonna fall in love with you.”

Yeah, he was. Bill narrowed his eyes, focus shifting ever so slightly from Shooting Star but still close enough that he could glare at her if the opportunity were presented. Gideon Gleeful had a _thing_ for bright colors, Bill knew – and Mabel Pines, Shooting Star, had to be the most colorful person in town at the very least. Of course he knew where this was going. He didn't need powers to see where her arrangement with Gleeful would go – he didn't need Stan to tell him that _this_ was his chance.

One look from the man was enough. That 'interested' feeling had yet to go away, and now he knew why – there was a part of him jumping for the chance to make the twins' lives a living hell, and human mannerisms could only drown out so much.

“Pshaw!” Shooting Star bumped into her brother's shoulder, fingers stumbling over the controller in her right hand. “I'm not _that_ lovable!” A few more seconds of gameplay, and Mabel cheered as the screen exploded into victory colors. “Yes!”

“Okay, we agree on something here.”

The doorbell rang, shortly followed by Stan shouting for someone to open it. As per usual, Mabel volunteered and promptly bounced off, leaving her controller and brother behind. Bill and Dipper shared a confused look – no one that would use the doorbell ever _actually_ used the doorbell, considering both Soos and Wendy know where the keys are hidden, and the resident Pines all knew how to pick locks, as did Bill.

So who the _hell_ wanted to visit?

A scream, not shrill so much as loud, filled the front room and sent both boys lurching out of their seats. Dipper got to the door first, Bill only two steps behind, and relaxed, if only slightly, at the sight that greeted them.

A horse.

Gideon Gleeful brought a _horse_ into the Mystery Shack.

Bill was about to duck away, retreat into the kitchen until the brat decided he was finished with his fanfare and actually take Shooting Star out for the night, but paused. The deal with Fez – a twinge in his stomach reminded him of the incomplete transaction – had to be finished soon, before the month was out. Bill gave it about two weeks before his body started getting short of breath, he had to finish it before then. For once, the pastel-clad menace that currently filled the door frame was _helping_ him, and even if it was unintentional, it was appreciated.

He took a breath, put one hand on Pine Tree's shoulder, and stepped out from hiding.

Mabel didn't notice, still picking herself up from where she fell against the wall, but Gideon certainly did. He watched, color draining from pudgy cheeks, as Bill proceeded to hold out a hand to Shooting Star and boost her up to a standing position. His eyes flicked between the two when Mabel smiled in thanks, and Bill smiled back, all teeth as he usually did. His horse actively skittered back when that same grin was turned on Gleeful and seemed to widen.

The brat swallowed down some nerves. “... Cipher... Didn't know you were back in town.”

“Been back for a while, kid!”The toothy grin shrank to an amused smile. “You haven't changed a bit, I see! Good on you – it takes a thick skull to love that color for so long!”

The kid shook with his restraint, and all the sudden Bill's grin was back in full force, not to mention without his permission. Despite that, when Gideon tried to mutter out a 'shut your mouth', it came out as a garble of slightly terrified gibberish that only made his smile widen. When he got the nerve, the two sized each other up, Gleeful too confident in his abilities to stay timid for long.

“Yes, well, I think we'll be going now. Mabel, darlin'?”

“Uh,” She looked between the two competitors, hesitant to step between them. “Yeah, coming.”

Cipher's eyes followed the horse as it backed out of the room, and Mabel shot a look at her brother as she followed it out.

Dipper watched as the two rode away, only shutting the door when they were out of sight.

“Okay, what,” Bill walked off before he could finish. “Hey, wait! What the heck was that all about!”

“Business, kid.”

“That – that wasn't business! You guys looked like you were going to kill each other!”

He hummed. “Thought about it. Knew Fez would force me to clean up the mess. Decided not to.”

That sentiment shocked Dipper into a few moments of silence. “But... he knew you.”

“He did.” The memory bore a shadow of the grin he wore. “His _face_ , Pine Tree, did you see that! It was _great_!”

“He was scared of you.”

Bill laughed. “I love it! Aw, little brat's so sweet, he _remembers_ me!” They passed through the living room and into the hall, pacing steadily toward Stan's office.

“How could he remember you? He's like, ten!”

“It's all in the works, kid! Now, if you'll excuse me...” He pounded on the office door. “Fez! Fez, you've got security cameras, right?” When the man didn't answer, the process was repeated. “Fez! Open up! I've got something to show you, come on, it'll make you laugh!”

“Maybe he's not in there.”

“He's here.” Cipher insisted. “Stan!”

“What!”

Bill grinned. “It's Gideon!”

The door opened. “What about him?”

“Look at the recording of the front door, about five minutes ago.”

He sighed. “Cipher, what did you do?”

“Nothing I'll have to clean up!” Bill hummed, pushing his way into the room. “Now come on, let's watch that tape!”

“Hey, I-”

The door was slammed in Dipper's face.

“Hey!”

* * *

“And he's... _nice_ to y'all?”

Mabel continued poking at the actual live lobster on her dinner plate. Why was she even here. This date is one of the worst she's ever been on. “Well, yeah. I mean, Bill and I are a team, you know?” She was too disinterested to look up at Gideon's reaction, but if she did, she would have seen the most deadly glare directed at the space just beside her head. “And he and Dipper are kinda a team, too, I guess. They bicker a lot.”

“Is that so?”

She hummed. “They do guy stuff. Or adventure-y stuff. Sometimes both.”

“And what do you two do?”

She frowned down at her lobster. Why was Gideon so interested? Was he going to go after Bill? “A lot of things. He does artsy stuff with me. I'm working on a sweater for him.”

“... Now Mabel darlin'.” He set his napkin aside, one hand going to stroke the back of his hair. “How much do you know about Cipher?”

She shrugged – finally he was getting to the point. “Enough.”

“Then you know why you can't trust him.”

“Sure- wait, what?” She sat up straight, nearly getting her fingers snapped by the lobster when she pushed herself up. “What do you mean, I can't trust him? Bill is my friend!”

“Dumplin', Cipher is a demon. He steals, he cheats,” He pegged her with a look that was far too murderous for a ten year old. “He _lies_.”

She scowled. “His name is _Bill_ , and he is my friend no matter what you think.” An errant voice sounded from one of the other patrons – 'lover's spat', it whispered. She slowly looked around for the source, only to find everyone in the restaurant looking directly at their table, and sunk into her seat. “Bill is my _friend_.” She insisted in a quieter voice. “Why shouldn't I trust him?”

Gideon smiled, glancing around at the eyes trained on them. “I'll tell you, sugar-pie, but it'll have to be somewhere that has uh,” His glance flicked to her, then back to the surrounding admirers. “Less attention, perhaps?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mabel, it has been an absolute _delight_ dining with you tonight,” He said a little louder. “And I believe this date was a complete success.”

“Um, okay, but what -”

“Which is why our _second_ date will be all the sweeter!”

“Second?” She echoed. “But, ah, you asked for _one_ date, and, well, this was it.”

He smiled at her, and Mabel realized that this was why Grunkle Stan didn't like the Gleefuls, this was why Bill was looking at her so intensely before she left – they weren't angry she was going out with Gideon, they were _worried_. They were worried that he would use the leverage he was using now. They were worried he would trap her and they were _right_ to worry, because now, looking around at all the people sighing and praising their match, Mabel realized she had no way out.

“They're expecting us, Mabel. Please say you'll go?”

No! She wanted to scream. No, no no no! This is not what dating is about! This is not what love is about! Everything in her wanted to rebel whatever barrier he managed to build, but... She bit her lip. There were benefits, and she couldn't just leave. Before this, Gideon was her friend, and he just offered that 'less crowded' place he apparently needed in order to share about Bill's past. She wondered if it really mattered what her friend's past was, why the boy thought she couldn't trust one of the people she'd grown to adopt over the past few weeks. Did it? Not really, but she could tell it was important. Plus, the crowd was getting closer, waiting for her answer, eyes searching and hopeful and _Mabel why do you have to be so nice_?

“... Alright.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” The boy squirmed in his seat. “You have made me the happiest man alive, darlin'! You won't regret it!”

She was already mourning her sanity.

* * *

“I don't know what happened!” Mabel paced around the room, face scrunched into one of the most unpleasant expressions Dipper's ever seen on his sisters' face, throwing her hands up. “We were talking and then he asked for a second date and everyone was _looking_ and I didn't have enough time to think it through and I didn't know how to say no!”

“Whoa, slow down, Mabel. Breathe?” She obliged, taking a deep breath and slowly filtering it out through her clenched teeth. “What do you mean, you didn't know how to say no?”

“You don't understand, Dipper – he was – was -” She scrubbed her face with the cuffs of her sweater. “I don't know what he was doing, but he tricked me into it!”

His back straightened, offended at the mere idea that someone would dare to trick his sister. “Don't go then. Mabel, if he's gonna do this every time, then it'll never end!”

“I _know_! But...”

“But what?”

“He said...” She couldn't believe she was doing this, but Mabel couldn't withhold information from her brother. Her twin. “He said he would tell me about... about Bill.”

“... What do you mean?”

She moaned. “It's so stupid! Gideon _says_ we can't trust him and I _know_ that's not true but, but then he kept talking and I don't know what happened and I got – really, really curious, Dipper. I think...” Another deep breath. “Whatever Gideon knows, it's important. Super important.”

Dipper shivered. “What makes you say that?”

“I-... I don't know, Dip. It feels weird, but I know I'm right about this. I'm...” She sighed, collapsing into a sitting position with her head in her hands. “I'm gonna have to see him again...”

Dipper sat next to her, patting her back and biting his lip as her head slowly receded into her sweater. This is not good. At all. And if Gideon knows about Bill's past, what else could he know? Was he really a psychic? Dipper shook his head – Mabel couldn't go back for another date with Gideon, it was going to kill her inside, and he knew it would. But if she says it's important to risk it... he paused, thinking.

“... No you don't.”

Her eyes rose from behind her sweater collar. “I don't?”

“No, because...” He took a breath. “Because... I'm going in your place.”


	8. The Ol Switcheroo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night.

 “What are you planning?”

Bill leaned his head into one hand, staring blandly at the recording. The footage has been looping nonstop for around ten minutes, upon his request. Watching from video wasn't as satisfying as living it, though. “I don't know yet.”

Fez was watching the same footage from his seat on the other side of the desk, not bothering to look at his 'business partner' as he spoke. “You don't know?”

“Now that the little blue puppet knows I'm here, he'll be the one to decide.” Another loop, two pairs of eyes trained once again on the show pony of a boy. “We wait until then.”

Stan groaned. “This is ridiculous, waiting on that... _kid._ Why can't you just get it over with? Like ripping a band-aid.”

“'Fraid not, Fez.” He leaned back in his chair. “It has to be _elaborate_. I need something behind it, someone to fuel the fire...” He closed his eyes, tipping his hat forward to hide his eyes. “And now I've got it!”

“I don't like it.”

“You worry too much. Don't you trust me?”

“No.”

Bill snorted. “When the kid calls on me – and he _will_ call me – I'll make sure to shove the idea into his overgrown head. Then Pine Tree will blame the brat and it'll be easier to clear my name.”

Stan laughed this time. “Clear your name? Ha!” He twisted around so Bill was in his peripheral vision. “You going straight, Cipher?”

“In your nightmares.”

“Point taken. So has Dipper found out yet?”

“No,” Bill frowned, eyes still hid. “It's taking longer than I thought. There was a bit of suspicion yesterday, but that blew over.” He grinned. “I'm disappointed! You made it sound like he would figure it out within a week!”

“I thought he would.” Stan grumbled, facing the screen again for the next loop.

“He hasn't even reached the Weres yet.”

“He hasn't? Then what's he doing with all that time?”

Bill shrugged. “Investigating, probably.”

The man grunted – it made sense, with Dipper and occasionally Mabel disappearing for hours at a time, coming back with scrapes and bruises and flickering eyes, like they were expecting any number of things to pop out and demand their attention. Whatever they've been doing, it's been affecting them – they work faster and smarter whenever he assigns them in the Shack, they're constantly moving, almost as if they've become uncomfortable when they sit still for too long.

Gravity Falls has been changing his great niece and nephew.

“They're testing the waters,” Bill continued, hand toying with the edge of his hat. “Watching boundaries, taking notes. Pine Tree's started continuing the journal. Might need his own soon.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm being serious, actually! He's taken to it like a selkie to water!”

“That's not a good thing, Cipher.”

He laughed. “I know! You'll have to distract him.”

“Hm. I might. Always did say he needed more muscle on him.”

“Ooh, yes, big muscle man Pine Tree, very scary.” Bill snorted, hat now completely off his head and being fussed over. “Whip those little noodle arms into shape, Fez! We all believe in you!”

“If I can do it, he can do it.”

“Is he gonna start wearing the conman suit too? Or!” He grinned. “Or you could make him a lumberjack type thing! I always thought he would grow into flannel.” Another laugh. “Pine Tree cutting down pine trees! It's hilarious!”

Stan shrugged. “I'm okay with this.”

“You honestly think you can pull it off!”

“I'll give him the tough jobs. Start off small, have Soos help him, and then throw them out like off-brand candy. It'll turn out fine.”

“Oh boy, he's gonna hate you!”

“He'll learn.”

“You're setting yourself up!”

“For what?”

Bill spread his hands. “ _Betrayal_.”

“I _said_ it'll be fine.” Stan growled at the screen. “Kid's got a good head on his shoulders, he'll figure it out eventually.”

“What, like he found out about me?”

“ _Eventually_.”

“Fine, fine.” He leaned back once again. “But don't say I didn't warn you.”

* * *

“Are you sure about this, bro?”

“No.” Dipper laughed, adjusting the cuff on his loaned sweater. “But if Gideon wants to play tricks, you know, who am I to argue?” Mabel helped him adjust the clip in his hair – giving the illusion of tied back hair instead of his usual scruffy curls. “Don't worry Mabel, I got this.”

“But what if he notices? What are you gonna do if he goes crazy!”

“I've got the journal with me! I'll be fine.”

“What if he tricks you too!”

“He _won't_. Mabel, don't worry about me – you just hide until he leaves, and I can deal with him from there.”

She fell silent, fiddling with an errant bracelet as Dipper fussed over his bangs, trying to get them straight enough to resemble his sister's side part. They caught each others eyes, each sparked with a different kind of worry – Mabel never wanted to have someone else deal with her boy problems, especially one this important. Dipper was overpowered with the same curiosity that he suspected would eventually get him killed, and dying to know just how much Gideon knew about the man that's practically spent his entire summer with them.

This would turn out bad. They both knew it would turn out bad.

And they were going through with it anyway.

“Everything is gonna be fine.” Dipper insisted.

Mabel glanced at her brother's hat. “... Do you want one of my bandanas?”

“Yeah, that's probably best.” He sighed, giving in as his bangs popped back up into oblong curls. “What do you have?”

“How about... stars?”

“Fine.”

She obliged, tying the cloth around his head without complaint, hiding what would have been her own part behind colorful stars and sparkles. “Just don't take it off, okay?”

“Alright.”

Mabel frowned, glancing out the window. “Are you _sure_ you're sure?”

“Do you want to do it?”

“... No.”

“Then I'm sure.” He tried sharing a smile. “And hey, if you really want to pay me back or something, after this is over we can have that ice cream movie marathon?”

She gasped, a smile beginning to bloom. “I thought you said pillow fort ice cream marathons were silly!”

“They are, but we can still do it. Deal?”

“No matter what happens?”

“No matter what happens.”

She nodded. “Deal!”

* * *

“Are you feelin' alright, my marshmella'?”

“Uh...” They were dancing. _Dancing_. Dipper was going to die, thank all the gods he could think of that Mabel was too busy avoiding Gideon to tape this. He remembered the steps, too, which made it _worse_ – as soon as he let on that he knew the steps, his 'date' had swept him up and started hitting on him.

Which, you know, considering he was a jerk on top of these same compliments being directed purely at his sister, was kinda gross. And infuriating.

Not to mention Dipper had been planning to end this date as soon as possible, but has already been led around the ballroom for an _hour_.

A cough emphasized his next words. “I'm, uh, a little cold in here. Do you think we could go somewhere else?”

“But of course!” Dipper found it hard to block out the repeated 'aww's that echoed around the room when the boy shrugged off his jacket and spread it over Dipper's shoulders. So this was how he caught Mabel – his sister had always been empathetic, but no one has really used it against her before. It made him want to either curl up or slap that stupid pudgy smile off the kid's face. “C'mon darlin', we can move on to the next portion of the evening!”

“Next portion?” The warm summer air hit his face. It was night already, what more did Gideon want?

“I've arranged for a small boat to be taken out onto the lake tonight. A secluded area, where we might be able to chat a little?”

“Oh... kay?”

 _Finally_.

Dipper allowed Gideon to lead him over to a car, fidgeting as he had often seen Mabel do as the boy shut the door behind him and rush over to the other side. He all but scrambled to get the seat next to 'Mabel', even though there was no one around to take it from him.

No wonder Mabel didn't like him. She didn't have a name for this behavior, but Dipper certainly did: Possessive. Gideon wanted to own his sister.

He shivered with barely contained rage. Gideon mistook it for cold and, once again, handed him his own jacket as a nameless figure in the front seat drove them out to the lake.

“Now, I don't mean to complain, but you've been a bit silent towards Lil' me since this evening started.”

Oh really? “Sorry, I didn't mean to.”

“Oh no, that's quite alright. Now, I was wondering if I should be the one doin' the talking whilst we have our discussion, hm?”

So smug. Why does he sound so smug? Dipper nodded in agreement.

The car swerved to a stop.

“Well then.” Gideon laughed. “I suppose that makes this a mite easier, doesn't it, Pines?”

… Oh no. “Gideon?”

“Thought you could fool me, didn't you?” Gideon didn't move, didn't do much other than grasp at that blue tie that he was always wearing. “Thought you and your dear sister could pull one over on little ol' me, huh?”

All the blood in Dipper's body ran cold – no, come on Pines, he's just a kid, you can take him, just keep quiet, he'll give you what you want eventually.

“Now she must've told you about our little disagreement a few days ago, didn't she?”

“She doesn't like it,” He said before he could stop himself. “When you go after her friends. Her _family_.”

“Oh, so the demon's _family_ , now, is he?” The boy hummed. “That quite a step up from 'teammate', if you ask me. What about you, Dipper Pines? Do you consider Cipher your family?”

Dipper glared.

“Are you gonna answer me, boy?”

“Why are you so interested in Bill?”

Gideon laughed. “ _Interested_! Oh dear me, you really don't know who he is, do you?”

“What?”

“I'll tell you what,” Gideon flicked his nose. “ _Little Dipper_. I'm gonna set up a line of questions for you, and if you answer every one right, you get a prize!”

Dipper growled, but something in him refused to let him retaliate. “And if I get one wrong?”

“Oh, everyone wins one way or another, Dipper.” The kid grinned. “The prize you get if you answer a question _wrong_... well, we'll just have to see, now won't we?”

This grin wasn't scary. The twins had been orbiting around Bill Cipher for weeks now, Dipper knew when a grin turned menacing, frightening, and while Gideon was trying so very hard to inspire the slightest bit of fear in him, all he could think of... all he could think of was that scene in the doorway of the Shack, Bill and Gideon going head to head when it was obvious who would win. Dipper didn't doubt that, if push came to shove, he could have help in this. Someone was bound to notice if he'd been gone too long.

After all, they had that pillow fort ice cream movie marathon to sit through, and Dipper never went back on a promise like that.

“Fine man. What's your first question?”

“So demanding!” The boy signaled for the car to start moving again, but this time it was obviously pointed towards town. A few minutes later they were parked just outside of a small shop laden with wind chimes and dreamcatchers, mingling subtly in the slight breeze. “Now then, where do you think we are? Who's shop is this?”

No way. It couldn't be. “Is this Bill's shop?”


	9. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This right here is why I even started writing this. This chapter. Right here.

His eyes flicked from Gideons' smug face to a lit window of the small building. “What are we doing at Bill's shop?”

“Funny you should ask that, Dipper.” He smiled, looking very much like he wanted a cat to stroke at that moment. “I'm sure you've noticed already – big paranormal expert like you, you simply _must_ have noticed – but your 'teammate' ain't all he's cracked up to be. Oh no,” Dipper stared at the shop with wide eyes. “He's so much more than that.”

“... What do you mean?”

Gideon laughed. “Hoo, you didn't know? Oh dearest me, this has got to be the happiest day of my life!” While he was distracted, someone – the driver, when did the driver get out? - yanked open Dipper's door and pulled him out by the back of his shirt. Oh god, Mabel was going to kill him, this is her favorite shirt. He yelled in surprise, trying desperately to twist out of the grip, but no matter how much he squirmed and kicked, the attacker didn't seem to notice. Gideon slid over into the seat Dipper had been occupying, and yeah, now the grin was a little scary. “Tell you what, let's go find out just what you've been missing, hm?”

“What are you _talking_ about, man!”

“Now now, careful with your volume, Pines – you're gonna want to save up your energy for this little trip.”

Dipper grunted as the person holding him turned, making his body swing in the summer air as he continued to struggle. His adrenaline was pumping overtime now, and his mind flashed the facts at him like neon signs in the night. Gideon figured it out. Gideon and a faceless entity are kidnapping him. They're all going into Bill's shop. Bill is not human.

Bill is not human, and from Gideon's excitement, Bill's not going to help him out of this.

The realization struck hard, and Dipper paused for a moment before doubling his efforts. Of course, how could he have trusted Bill – the man had been pushing Dipper and Mabel into trouble since day one with that _stupid_ journal, warning them of their surroundings so they would be even more curious – what a cheap tactic, Dipper griped, but they fell for it, and they fell hard. He should have known, should have figured it out, it was all right there for him to piece together and Dipper _ignored_ it.

The stories, the behavior, it all lined up. The man never really cared about the twins, all he cared about was the game they presented. Even Grunkle Stan had told them that, told them Bill was only interested because they were _new_ and so easily _manipulated_. Dipper kicked at the doorframe as he was carried into the shop, frantically trying to find purchase on the ridged surface but falling short. Stan knew. Gideon knew. They all _knew_ , and Dipper had been falling behind without even realizing. Without caring. He should have demanded answers when he had the chance. He should have figured it out. He should have found a way.

“Cipher!” Accompanying Gideons' cry, Dipper slammed his foot on a filled table sitting by the door. Multiple knick-knacks shifted against each other, too colorful and crowded for him to pay attention to any singular object, but he did feel a small pinprick of pride when one of them fell off the table and shattered on the ground.

The shop was dark and crowded with things, objects shrouded in shadow, and it took only a moment of observation to realized Gideon's amulet – the blue stone circle that had always been right there, _why didn't he see it_ – was glowing, pulsing with what Dipper suspected to be magic.

 _Magic_. Mabel wanted to learn magic. He was going to scan the journal for any spells that she could use. He said he would.

Oh man, he might actually die here.

All movement stopped. There's no use, now he's just a sitting duck, a deer in headlights. His muscles locked on their own. The only thing he could hear was blood pumping in his ears.

“Breath, Pine Tree.”

He took a breath, unable to focus on anything but knowing Bill had just walked past the trio. In the edges of his vision, he saw Gideon flash a horrendous smile at him before pacing over to where Bill must be.

The turned, and suddenly it wasn't so dark anymore.

The walls were draped in fabric, so much so that Dipper couldn't tell just what the original wall color was, and every hanging strip, every banner had equally colorful runes dyed, painted, and drawn on. Chimes and dreamcatchers hung from the ceiling, masquerade masks adorned whatever spare space there was. Tables and bureaus were lined on every wall, covered in trinkets and mirrors that flashed light into his eyes, and in the middle of it all was one clean, circular table that held nothing more than a card deck and a bemused Bill.

Dipper bared his teeth, glaring at the man, but couldn't find the energy to struggle against the person that had been slowly edging them both forward.

“Let's make a deal, demon.”

Demon. Bill smiled, and that was all the confirmation Dipper needed. “Oh, sure, no 'how have you been in the last century'. I've been great, actually! You should really see Europe this time of year, very nice place.”

Gideon scowled. “Listen to me! I want to make a deal!”

“Oh, I heard you, short stack, but what's the harm in a little chit chat?”

“You're a demon.” Bill blinked, looking over to the boy currently being held captive. Dipper felt tears sting at the back of his eyes, but the force of his anger held them back. “You – Did Stan know?”

“Another time, Pine Tree.”

“There won't _be_ another time, demon. We are making a _deal_!” Gideon glared at them both, then focused on Bill, who in turn leveled an unimpressed stare at the boy. “I want you to make it so Dipper Pines,” He pointed at Dipper, stomping a foot. “Cannot get in my way any more than he already has!”

Dipper kicked at the boy's hand, catching his outstretched finger with the toe of his shoe. “I didn't even do anything to you, man! What do you want from me!”

“You got in the way of _my_ relations with _my_ sweetpea! You stole her place, convinced her not to come, turned her against me! _You_ -” He snarled. “And that _wretched_ family of yours, are going to ruin _everything_!”

“Alright,” Dipper stopped breathing. Bill was still leaning against the table, fiddling with the cards there. “But I want something in return, of course.”

Gideon grinned. “Name it.”

A laugh. “You really haven't changed! I want...” The mans eyes roamed the room in thought, landing on Dipper – still captive and in his sister's clothes – with a grin. “I want charge over how I'm going to do it! And!” Bill held up a finger. “I want everything he's carrying now, no exceptions!”

Gideon surged forward, hand already outstretched. “Deal!”

Their hands met, and Dipper startled as blue fire encompassed them both – no, this isn't real, this couldn't be happening – and just as suddenly as he was picked up, he was dropped to the ground, landing on knees and elbows, too shocked by events to think of escape before the fire swirled and sparked, catching on the rug and twisting it's way over to him with unnatural speed.

He screamed as it caught on his clothes, flickering and licking at his skin and branching up. When he flinched back, it took the opportunity to spread to his legs as well – _I'm going to die, I'm going to_ die - Dipper was frozen, once again like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming eighteen wheeler, and in his panic a small portion of him had enough sense left to notice quite a few very important things.

Point one: he wasn't _burning_. The fire caught on his clothes, his skin, pretty much everything it could reach, and in the few moments he spent looking – oh man, adrenaline, time lag, if he survives this he's going to have one heck of a headache later – the blue flames were very much alive and thriving, but nothing burned. In fact, it felt... cold, somehow. As if the word 'monochromatic' had been translated into a feeling.

Point two: Bill did not look happy, but Dipper can worry about that later – there are much more important things to be worried at.

Which brings us to point three:

Dipper felt funny.

“Urgh.” Time seemed to speed up again as he doubled over, flaming arms going to grab at his stomach. Everything _ached_ , and it came on so suddenly that he let out a groan of agony, desperately trying to get closer to the ground than her already was, almost like his main instinct was to be absorbed by the earth – but the earth under the too-colorful rug of the shop wasn't helping him, and every part of his being ached and _itched_ , and things under his skin were _moving_ and _twisting apart_ and _shifting_.

Dimly, he felt the sensation of his borrowed hair clip, and then his sister's bandana, being pulled off. Years of self-preservation tactics made him look up, but the hand that went to shield his forehead was stopped.

Oh god, he saw the birthmark.

Dipper doubled over again, feeling his bones twist and turn and elongate, and suddenly couldn't stand to be in that position anymore. He shifted to his side, blood drumming in his ears, and the one part of his brain that hadn't booked a first-class flight to panic land lay down with him and whispered _wait._

The agony passed, his bones settling into something not human, and Dipper wondered if he might survive this after all.

Gideon guffawed, and all his hopes shattered. He huffed a breath out of his nose, and the feedback he got when he breathed in was dizzying. Everything in the room _smelled_ . Actually smelled, like individual scents from object to object. A foot prodded at one of his arms – no, wait, _legs_ , oh god he had four legs, what the hell – and every emotion that led up to the panic he had been in the midst of just moments ago came bubbling to the surface.

He bared his teeth, twisted around, and let out the most terrifying sound he had ever made in his life.

Bill didn't even look phased, gathering the small coin bag out from under Dipper's hind leg. “Deal's done. Now shoo.”

' _O_ _h god,_ ' Something whistled out of his mouth, sounding suspiciously like a whine at the sight of black fur smoothed along his body. ' _Oh god, what did you do to me, what did you do, what did you do!_ '

Gideon hasn't stopped laughing. “A dog! Ha! Cipher, Cipher what breed of dog is that?”

Bill folded up his shirt. “A Doberman Pinscher.”

He spluttered. “This – ha!”

Cipher laughed. “I know! Now go on!”

“So- So long Cipher, have fun with your new _pet_!”

Gideon and the other man, still faceless, tromped out the door and it slammed shut behind them.

A dog.

' _You_.'

Bill raised an eyebrow.

' _You turned me,_ ' Dipper snarled in anger. ' _into a_ dog _?_ '

Something snapped, and the demon couldn't flinch back fast enough to avoid the bite that mutilated his right hand.


	10. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper hates Bill. Mabel is rocketing toward the same conclusion at record speeds.

_'Let me out, or I smash everything in this building!'_

Bill clutched the loose gauze to his hand and continued to glare at him, eyes not quite glowing, but not quite human anymore, either. Dipper didn't care anymore, already having decided that whatever veil had been set over the mans – the _demon's_  eyes had lifted as soon as he saw Bill for what he really was. There was a bit of pride mixed in with the general feelings of betrayal and anger. Dipper may not have given as good as he got, but that bite mark hadn't stopped bleeding yet, and no one can take that away from him.

All four of his legs were braced in a classic aggression stance, just raring to let loose on whatever poor piece of furniture he set his eyes on. Currently, he was deciding between knocking over the coffee table and scratching at one of the many mirrors on a nearby desk.

Bill sighed. “Pine Tree, you're being unreasonable.”

 _'Unreasonable!'_ Dipper growled, oddly pleased at the vibration now that he knew what it was. _'Yeah, sure, I'm gonna listen to the guy that just ruined my life like it was nothing!'_

“I didn't _ruin your life_ , Pine Tree, I just put it on hold for a bit!”

_'Fuck your sentiments!'_

“Language, kid.”

 _'Fuck your language!'_ He growled again. _'I'm twelve, and you just- did this! I can curse if I want to!'_ He took a deliberate step toward the desk. _'Change me back.'_

“Can't.”

Another step. _'Change. Me. BACK!'_

“No.”

_'Then let me out!'_

“Not this late at night, Pine Tree.”

_'Why!'_

“You know why!” Bill bared his teeth right back, eyes flashing. “So just s͟͜į́ţ͘͘ ̡̢̧d̶̛͜o͘͟w̧n̵͡͡ and ẁ͟a̢it͡!”

 

-

They had been glaring at each other from opposite sides of the room for over an hour now. Every time Bill left, Dipper would take it upon himself to destroy another trinket. He didn't want to move from his spot, and yes, this space just under the lip of the giant table was his spot, and he made sure to cover the area in black fur. He didn't have a very thick coat, and there wasn't much to shed, but he made do.

The demon had long since fallen into one of the chairs that had been pushed up against the wall, feet propped up on nothing, but floating all the same. Dipper wasn't sure if he was in the chair, or floating just above it. He kept one eye open.

That is, until something stirred in his chest.

He perked up from his position on the floor, ears rotating and flicking until they settled on one particular, seemingly empty spot, but didn't look away from the demon. Bill noticed the sudden movement and laughed, straightening his slouched position as well.

“Didn't think that would work.” He hummed in response to Dippers light growl. With one ear focused on whatever had caught his attention, the other edged over to listen to whatever explanation Bill had to offer. He didn't disappoint. “Come on, Pine Tree, you can figure it out. Tell me, what are you?”

 _'I_ was _a boy.'_

The comment was met with exasperation. “What are you _now_ , kid?”

_'Didn't you say I was a Doberman?'_

“In all appearances, you're a Doberman Pinscher, but I gave you a little more than that!” He grinned. “Come on, I'll give you a hint! Where did I go after Gravity Falls?”

 _'Egypt.'_ The answer came automatically. _'What does that have to do with anything?'_

He raised an eyebrow, but soon snapped in realization. “Oh, you haven't seen my object form yet, have you, kid?”

_'Object form?'_

“Riddle me this: What symbol has become famous by showing in the oddest of places?”

 _'A symbol?'_ That was confusing. Was his object form the symbol? And what did that have to do with Egy- … oh. Ooh. _'A pyramid, right? God, what's the name of that thing -'_ He had seen it so many times before! Anyone that knew anything about conspiracy theories recognized it on the spot! _'The Illuminati symbol.'_

“There you go! See, I knew you were smart!”

Another growl. _'Quit it. What does that have to do with anything?'_

“You familiar with Egyptian mythology, kid?” Bill's grin widened. “Oh, who am I kidding, of course you are! Now tell me, what animal has your likeness recorded next to the tombs, huh? Go on, give a guess!”

_'The only things that even resembled dogs were jackals!'_

“Myths, Pine Tree, myths.”

He huffed. _'The Set animal. That was really just a bunch of jackals.'_

A laugh. “Don't be so sure, kid, 'cause you're one of them now!”

 _'Right,'_ Dipper rolled his eyes but didn't lay his head down again. His curiosity didn't let him. _'And why exactly do you think that connects to me_ moving _? I could have just gotten sore, you know.'_

Bill snorted. “Cause I'm made of the same basic stuff kid. That thing stirring in your gut? Imagine that, times fifty, every second of the day. Pretty nifty, huh!”

_'Just the thought of it is making me sick.'_

“You don't understand the joys of a physical body!” The man grinned, floating a little higher – and he was actually floating now, not hovering over the chair. “I don't usually have one! That's what my object form is for, kid. Whenever I'm not possessing one of you useless meatbags or have a vessel whipped up, I'm stuck in my realm! No physical sensations, barely any sounds, and colors that don't exist on the visible plane. It gets boring!”

Dipper knows this is valuable information, but... _'Oh yeah, heaven forbid Bill Cipher gets bored.'_

“Easy on the snark, Dippin dots, you don't know what happens when I'm bored.”

_'What, did you cause Pompeii?'_

He groaned. “Why does everyone ask that? No! Pompeii was great! I _liked_ Pompeii! I was behind Atlantis, Pompeii happened because they decided it would be a great idea to start their own little witch hunt and caught something that was not a witch!”

_'Wait, really?'_

“What they caught was a weird mix between and earth and a fire elemental – hence the magma? C'mon, you can't possibly think _natural_ magma moves that fast on the surface; That incident had some power behind it.”

_'No – really? - but no, wait, you caused Atlantis to sink?'_

He shrugged. “Well, one of them. There were at least five.”

_'Tell me.'_

“Later. Go to sleep!”

 _'Sleep?'_ Another growl. _'You think I'm gonna sleep here? No way, Mabel's probably worried sick by now! I have to get home!'_

The demon blinked. One eye blazed yellow in the dim lighting of the shop. “Oh. That's interesting.” A smile. “Now just when did the Mystery Shack become your home?”

_'What do you care?'_

“Oh, no reason!” Bill floated out of his chair, knees bending into a lounging state that looked a bit more comfortable for floating. “Just go to sleep, kid!”

_'No way.'_

“Go on!”

_'No.'_

A groan. “You're being a brat.”

_'You're being annoying.'_

“If you would just fall asleep, I could explain a lot.”

_'Sure, that makes complete sense.'_

“Really?”

Dipper snorted. _'No. Quit bothering me.'_

The demon groaned again, and Dipper was reminded of a little kid trying to force their parents to buy them a new toy. The thought made him huff out a laugh, earning a bemused glare from the subject of said thought. They glared at each other. “You know what, I didn't want to do this kid, but you're being really obtuse right now.” Bill sniggered. “Get it? Obtuse? I'm hilarious!” Suddenly he was hovering right in front of the boy, nearly close enough to bite again.

_'What are you -'_

“S̱͍̹̬̻͓ḽ̛̹͙͖̩e҉̹̣e̖̤̥͓͍p̢, Pine Tree.”

-

“Where's your brother, kid?”

Mabel shrugged, leaning against the porch railing and staring down the open road. The only light that touched her came from inside the Shack, seeing as the full moon, while beautiful, was hidden behind the roof. Eerie shadows stretched from the trees, and a few things rustled under the shelter they made, but she couldn't see anything moving. “He should be back by now.”

“What'd you say before?” Stan leaned on the section of railing next to hers and offered a can of soda. Recognizing the pink label, she gratefully took a swig. “'Guy stuff' something or other? Maybe he's doing that.”

She shook her head. “He went to go talk to Gideon cause I didn't want to and he's been gone for hours and I just...”

“Gideon?” Stan frowned. “Why would he want to talk to _Gideon?_ ”

She buried her face in her sweater. “Gideon wants to date me and Dipper went in my place and I don't know what to do now!”

Oh no. Affection. How do affection. Stan gulped and placed a few decisive pats on her back. “Want me to go after him?”

Two eyes popped out of the woolen safe haven to stare up at him. “You'd do that?”

“'Course I would, kid. I promised your parents I'd look out for 'ya, didn't I? Besides, it's not like your brother could go very far – he's got noodle limbs. I'll just drive around and scoop him up when I find him.”

“Afraid that won't be necessary, Fez!”

The sudden crunch of gravel startled both Pines, heads whipping around to the well-dressed man on their property that was definitely not there a few seconds ago. He looked different – it took a moment for Mabel to figure out why, and she gasped when she found it. While Bill's expression was as giddy as ever, his eyes glowed yellow, pupils slightly stretched.

The sight of those eyes told Stan all he needed to know.

“... Where is he, Cipher.”

“At my place!” His feet levitated a foot or so above the ground, and Mabel took a step back. “Not the Mindscape, of course, but I'm taking good care of him!” His gaze flicked over to Mabel. “Don't worry Shooting Star, Pine Tree's just fine.”

The wording rang through her ears. “What... What happened!”

“Me!” The man that wasn't actually a man laughed, and Mabel tightened her hold on the nearby railing. “See, someone noticed your little trick and had me take care of it!”

Her blood was cold. “What did you do to my brother.”

“Nothing like he did to me!” He shoved a gauze-wrapped hand forward for them to see. “I give him sharper teeth, and he cuts me open with them! So rude!”

“What did you DO!” The last word left as a screech. Bill's pout shrank into nothing. “What did you do to my brother!”

“Shooting-”

She whipped around, grabbing the closest the she could – a can of cigarette water for the tourists – and chucked it at him. Years of sewing and arm-related activities mixed with the adaptation and aim that came with her hard-won victories in softball as a girl. Her aim rang true, and the can nailed the target right in his nose.

Something cracked, and the can bounced off leaving Bill's face more damaged than before. A gloved hand came up to straighten a now crooked nose, and he continued to stare Mabel down as a second crack sounded. “That's the second time a Pines went after me tonight.”

The display was terrifying, but not enough to earn her silence. “What happened?”

“You know, I could easily make your brother's safety a little more precarious.”

“Mabel,” Stan put a hand on her shoulder. She was steaming with rage, practically hissing as she stared at Bill. “Mabel, sweetie, it's time to calm down.”

She turned that glare onto him. “But Dipper -”

“He's not getting any better this way.” He did this. The stare his great niece gave him weighed heavy on his shoulders. This was his fault, but it had to be done. “Mabel honey, we'll figure this out without putting your brother's life at risk.”

“But-!”

“After your brother's safe. Got it?”

She grit her teeth, braces scratching against the inside of her mouth. “... Got it.”

“Now that everyone's settled,” A pointed glare was sent her way, and she responded in kind. “I came to inform you that I'll be keeping him 'til morning. Pine Tree will come running as soon as I let him.”

“Then why don't you -”

“The forest at night is not a good place for little Dippers.” Bill tipped his hat. “Until then, Fez, Shooting Star!” He blinked out of existence, leaving Stan and Mabel to stare at where he had been.

The eldest of the two heaved a breath, noticing the frown that marred his usually joyous relative's face. This was going to be a long night.


	11. Woof

At this point, Stan didn't know which was worse: his favorite niece refusing to speak to him, or his favorite niece refusing to sleep. Either way, put them together and out pops a very tense and quiet night, and that's something no one wants.

He could tell she was struggling with it too – with both parts. First she would nod off, always sitting within view of the window or door. Her head would slump forward suddenly and it would startle her awake for a few seconds, and in that few seconds she would get so close – _so close_ – to speaking to him.

But then she would fully snap awake, and whatever she was about to say would die a slow and agonizing death. Stan almost envied it.

He heaved a sigh.

At least he didn't have to worry about the deal anymore.

* * *

 

Dipper woke up confused.

It took a few moments to realize he had slept on a floor, for one, and that connected to the fact that his back wasn't as sore as it should have been. Another thought branched off in the general direction of 'where am I', but he got that answer pretty quick, considering Bill made a point of floating right past his spot under the table with a pen tucked behind one ear and carrying a notepad and a mug. Dipper sniffed more out of instinct and genuine curiosity than actual alertness, and huh, Bill drank milk instead of coffee, that's a little surprising.

Mostly, he just wanted to go back to sleep and wait a minute, Bill was floating?

He started, boosting himself into full consciousness as the memories came rushing back, and yeah, that little movement revealed that he still had four legs and what he assumed to be a tail. A little huff of effort drew Bill's attention, and he laughed.

“Mornin' Pine Tree! Sweet dreams?”

Dipper suddenly knew he was too tired for this. _'Yes, actually: I dreamed I was human and in a human body. It was a pretty nice dream until I woke up.'_

“So surly. Want a drink?”

_'I want you to change me back.'_

He sighed. “You're a broken record, kid. Food?”

_'No.'_

“Don't tell me you're gonna starve yourself, Pine Tree. It won't work.”

_'Why not?'_

“I could always force-feed you. Like a stubborn child. Oh wait!”

_'Ha ha, very funny douche.'_

Bill sniffed. “I told you, kid, watch your fucking language.”

_'What are you gonna do, turn me into a dog? Oh wait!'_

“A _Set Animal._ Not a dog.”

_'A dog.'_

“Set Animal.”

_'Dog.'_

“But dogs are so boring!” He whined, settling down into the chair he spent his time in the night before. “Wouldn't you rather be magical?”

_'I'd rather be human!'_

“Humans are boring too!” He tugged the pen from it's resting place and fiddled with it. “Well, sort of. Mostly boring with a bit of fun, like sugar cookies.” He grinned, seeming struck by the thought of the sweet snack before his expression slowly faded into nothing. “Shooting Star hates me now.”

Dipper perked up. _'You saw Mabel? Is she okay?'_

“She broke my nose.” There was a brief, shocked silence. Dipper huffed. The huff quickly escalated into a full-blown chuckle as Bill turned to glare at him. “This is not a laughing matter, Pine Tree! She _broke_ my _nose!_ ”He only laughed harder at the reminder. Bill only groaned. “Why do I do this...”

_'I have the best sister ever!'_

“Shut up, brat, you're lucky I haven't smote the hell out of the both of you.” He grumbled. “Speaking of Shooting Star...”

The laughter died down. _'What?'_

“First of all, you didn't bring Journal Three with you last night. Why not.”

_'I didn't have room.'_

“It's going to cause problems. The only reason I agreed to the show pony's terms was for that journal, and you didn't have it.” Bill quickly scribbled something down on the notepad he had been holding. “Not to mention he's interested in Shooting Star.”

Dipper shot him a look. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him, and he boosted himself up onto all four legs and paced over to Bill's chair. _'What do you care?'_

“I got an unfair deal, Pine Tree.” He lowered the note for Dipper to see, and he was only a little surprised that it was covered in multicolored codes, each color being a different note. He even recognized a few, taking only a few seconds to sift through them – one was a reminder for someone named 'Leah', another looked like coordinates, and so on. Bill took the pad back and scribbled a few more things. “I don't like being cheated.”

_'So it has nothing to do with us.'_

“It has everything to do with you.” Bill shrugged, and Dipper tried to ignore the still looming feelings of betrayal in his gut. “Believe it or not, kid, there's a lot of things you don't know about my deals. I needed you to hate me, and I needed your sister to hate me. But now I don't.”

_'… Why?'_

He sighed. “It doesn't matter. Do you want your sister safe, or not?”

_'Of course I do!'_

A bell rang, making the dog jump in surprise. The stained-glass door swung open slowly, revealing the cool tones of an early morning just before sunrise.

“Then hurry up and get her, Pine Tree.”

With wide eyes switching between the door and the literal demon, Dipper decided he didn't want to waste time arguing. He bolted out the door, feeling the cool summer air flutter against his new fur in a breeze, and immediately made a mad dash for main street. Running was the easiest thing in the world, and he actually enjoyed feeling the power and efficiency that made all four legs plunge him through the quickly increasing light of day. Turning a corner, he sighted the faded colors of Greasy's Diner, got his bearings, and ran for the Mystery Shack before anything could even think about stopping him.

The dirt road he followed had seen better days, and that storm at the very beginning of summer had taken it's toll. It was full of dips and curves, ragged around the edges and occasionally spotted with roadkill thanks to the seemingly infinite number of tourists that passed through. To be completely honest, Dipper had never been so glad to stumble on a dip in the road in his entire life.

The Shack hadn't changed overnight, and the early hours brought no visitors to entertain. With only a little forethought, he clacked right up onto the wooden porch.

 _'Now how to get their attention...'_ Poor Mabel, she'd probably been worried sick, but Dipper couldn't trust that the rest of the Pines family would be awake this early. He looked around, ears swiveling, but found nothing that could assist him.

_'Well, I could always bark.'_

* * *

 

Mabel Pines didn't sleep. She made that point very clear a few hours before sunrise, glaring out the window and keeping eyes open with sheer force of will, doing everything in her power to ensure she would be awake when her brother came home – and if Bill wasn't lying, he _would_ come home. He had to.

He had to.

The man – or whatever he was – was a common subject of her tired mind. She replayed their short meeting over and over, desperately trying to figure out what had happened, but she wasn't as good at the whole 'cross-examination' thing. Maybe there just wasn't enough. That happened sometimes, right? Even Dipper got stumped every once in a while, and he's a brainiac!

She angrily downed another glass of Mabel juice. Something was missing. Bill didn't tell her everything – of course he didn't, otherwise she wouldn't be worrying.

What happened? _Me,_ he said, and the laugh echoed in her ears. A small part of her noted that yes, anger was good, anger kept her awake, but she had other things to think about. Emotions sorted themselves out a little over an hour ago, but it still hurt her heart to know that her Sweater Dream Team was broken, that one of the only people in Gravity Falls that she knew and liked was actually super evil and had hurt her brother. _Bill_ hurt her brother.

Something spiked through her chest, not for the first time. This was her fault. If she had just gone and talked with Gideon in person, he wouldn't have found Dipper, and Bill wouldn't have a reason to do... whatever he did. Gideon Gleeful. Bill Cipher.

She had never hated anyone in her life, but something in her decided that this would be a good place to start.

That being said, she still winced as she remembered what happened next. Her aim had been so true, her arm so strong with the force of her anger – it scared her. Mabel Pines and Anger are two things that should never go together, because apparently when it did... she could hurt people. Not bruise or push over like in those little play-fights the twins have, but _hurt_ someone.

_That's the second time a Pines went after me tonight._

He twisted the cartilage of his nose into place, and it struck her that the hand he had not used – his right hand – had been bandaged. Dipper had fought back, and whatever he did, it did some damage, and Mabel wasn't sure if she wanted to glow with pride or curl up at the thought of her twin having to defend himself.

_I could easily make your brothers safety a little more precarious._

She didn't doubt it.

_I'll be keeping him 'til morning. Pine Tree will come running as soon as I let him._

_The forest at night is not a safe place._

He still cared.

She wanted to mash down the growing hope, and tried with increasing frustration, but it would not be silenced. Bill cared about Dipper's safety, about their safety, and he said that whatever he had done to her brother hadn't hurt him. It's not enough, but...

But.

It's not enough, but it counted for something.

Something that was quickly diminishing as light touched the horizon.

The early morning noises of birds and various animals permeated the shack. A few owls called through the trees, countless songs and chirps grew in volume and meshed together, and what sounded like a raccoon skittered around on the porch, probably looking for a way up onto the trash cans.

She stared out the window and breathed as slowly as she could.

Morning greeted her, and Dipper was still missing.

A dog barked. She ignored it.

Barked again.

Barked again.

Again.

Again. Mabel gave a tired stare at the door.

Again.

Again. This one was accompanied by the skittering of nails on the wood on the porch.

Again. She blinked, slowly getting up.

Maybe...

Well, if there were gnomes and floating men... maybe...

A big, black dog stared up at her, and she blinked. When did she open the door? When did she even _reach_ the door? Regardless, there was a dog on the porch. It was looking at her, sitting there like it was waiting for something and tall, pointed ears pointed straight at her and she tiredly reached out to pet it's head on instinct.

It huffed.

“Mabel?” She scrubbed her eyes. “Mabel, sweetie, where are you?”

“Over here, Grunkle Stan.”

He peeked around the corner. “Why's the door open?”

The dog huffed loudly in response. Mabel let her hand rest on it's head. “I... I think...” She frowned. “Grunkle Stan, what if...” She struggled, sleep deprivation finally getting to her. “What did Bill do to Dipper?”

He frowned, finally noticing the large dog at the door. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He continued to frown at the animal. “No. I'm not having this.”

The dog suddenly pushed forward into the house, nails clacking right past the two and into the living room and, making sure they were paying attention, sniffed and nudged at the couch cushions.

Where Dipper had stuffed the Journal the night before as he was getting ready.

“No.”

“Dipper?”

“No. No.”

“Oh my goodness...”

“Mabel -”

She laughed. “You're so _cute!_ Puppy puppy!”

The dog – _Dipper_ – growled half-heartedly.

Mabel laughed again, running forward to wrap her arms around his neck. Everything would be okay. Stan was leaning against the door frame, and her twin brother was cursed, but they would be okay. They could fix this. Everything would be okay.

She was going to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transition chapters. How do they work?


	12. Tweaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideon is ignored. Finally.

Morning came with much celebration in the Mystery Shack, but the rest of Gravity Falls woke slowly with the rising sun, the summer night making its warm transition into a different kind of life. The supernatural would be retreating back into their various hiding-holes, Bill knew, and the boy-turned-dog, his new _Set Animal_ would be safe and sound at home for a short amount of time. Despite this, the demon couldn't help but pause and consider the small blanket of black fur that now coated the underside of his table. Surely a few hours wouldn't be enough to mend what he's done.

Pine Tree had been furious. The carefully censored language, more than likely a courtesy encouraged by one Mabel Pines, had slipped during the night and gave a small view, no more than a glimpse, of the sea of anger the kid held steady beneath his skin. Bill hadn't been lying when he said regaining the kid's trust would be difficult, maybe even altogether impossible, but he had chosen this time for a reason. He had to remember that.

He has a scapegoat. Granted, it's not much of one, but it may be his only chance.

So, as he sensed Dipper disappear into the woods surrounding the Shack, Bill idly floated to the phone. It was old and golden, but not real gold, much to his personal distaste. Unfortunately, real gold was a bit more difficult to come by as a human than he anticipated, and whatever he had thought to summon before becoming something a little less all-powerful than he was used to would be important for the future.

Regardless, the receiver was solid and sure in his hand, a sensation he would miss if he didn't have this form. His smile at the thought was small, but real. Any other place, any other time, and this probably wasn't enough for him. The freedom of a physical form was something Bill had craved, before, but to have true freedom, one needs power. Without Fez showing up when he did, finding his way to Bill on his own and demanding a deal, the demon would have asked for so much more from this universe – as it was, contentment was a very warm, very _human_ feeling in his chest for however long he decided to let it stay there.

Dialing the number was one of the easiest things he had ever done, despite what was on the other end.

“ _Cipher?”_

“Short stack! My good _friend,_ we may have a small problem.” Gideon was silent – good, Bill had his attention. “See, remember when you left little Dipper at my place? Well, he was getting fur all over my nice, clean carpet, so I had no choice but to let the sucker loose!”

“ _You WHAT?”_

“Hey show pony, keep in mind I don't _have_ to warn you about these things. Be grateful!” He grinned at the strangled sound of rage on the other end of the line. “If you get to the Shack _now,_ you might be able to damage control before Tweedle-Dum and your- what was it, Peach Pie? Dumpling? Whatever you call Shooting Star- figure it out. Understand?”

“ _Consider yourself lucky for your immortality, Bill, because otherwise I-”_

Bill hung up the phone with a cheerful slam.

Perhaps he shouldn't have left for so long. His reputation for being a bloodthirsty master of manipulation was starting to go stale enough to encourage _Gideon_ to talk back at him.

He eyed the many masks of his shop carefully, as he was wont to do on occasion. Feathers and gems that resembled jewels gleamed at him in the slowly growing light of day. There seemed to be no order to the many styles and colors that resided on his walls, something that gave him great delight – creating order, as a human, was so easy, but creating _chaos?_ Well, that was much more difficult, and finding just the right placement had been maddening because there was always something to link the masks together. _Humans._ Why did they have to have such an affinity for order?

This time, looking around, there was one in particular that caught his eye. Usually he was drawn to the lighter colors, but this time his gaze landed on the muted green of a half-mask. It had been easy to secure, he remembered – all he had to do was make sure the sturdy wire, designed to be held, was secure to the wall. Of course everything in his home had its own beauty, but this one was one of the more dull pieces. Simple. Easily made.

Maybe that's what he needed.

If his old reputation was failing him, maybe he needed a new one. Something a little easier to manage in his current state.

* * *

 Dipper kept watch while Mabel slept.

Maybe it was the fact he didn't need to sleep. Maybe the previous nights' events tweaked his already overprotective sibling love into something a little more promising. Maybe it's because his sister had practically collapsed ontop of him after the relief of his return faded.

Stan was sleeping too. Dipper could smell his cooling coffee where it had been abandoned at the kitchen table. His family had forced themselves to stay awake just to wait for him.

And he couldn't even talk to them.

He tried, he really did. Bill could understand him just fine, couldn't he? They had whole conversations, even _bickered,_ just like they usually did (and that was a completely different mountain to tackle, wasn't it, now that Bill had betrayed him so thoroughly). But Mabel... he couldn't even talk to his sister. His twin. He couldn't apologize for her lost clothes and stolen headband, couldn't say he was sorry for not being there when she was so worried, so excited for a movie marathon that wasn't coming. God, she hadn't even built the pillow fort, with how worried he had made her. And he couldn't talk to Stan, couldn't do more than glare and try to growl in the mans general direction – try, but he knew his heart wasn't in it.

No matter how much he wanted to blame Stan, he wasn't responsible for this. He couldn't have been.

He couldn't read very well like this. Mabel had the mind to lay out his prized Journal before she faded into dreamland, now relocated to her bed instead of the living room floor, but even looking from the side, it was difficult to make out the letters. His eyes strained – of course he _could,_ but somewhere between step one and two his brain didn't understand that headaches were not actually supposed to be involved in reading. At least, not for him. Even if reading wasn't a chore, turning the pages was like catching water. Again, he could do it, but it always managed to slip through his metaphorical fingers.

In other words, it was a waste of time, and he always managed to get right back to where he started.

And that's not even the most depressing thought he'd had in the last few hours.

The doorbell rang about five minutes after he had given up in frustration. It was ignored, the only inhabitants that could operate the handle already being asleep. The sound persisted for some time, and then suddenly stopped.

Good.

* * *

 Dreaming had always been something Mabel enjoyed. It was like real life, but anything was possible!

She dreamed her brother had a nose like a dogs'. She poked it with enthusiasm, and dream-Dipper got just as huffy and offended as real-Dipper did. _Quit it, Mabel!_ But she didn't know how, and watching her brother laughingly trying to fend her off was nice, so nice, because he didn't laugh enough sometimes and Mabel needed to fix that. Dipper stopped laughing, though, and she poked his nose again in curiosity, in worry. They were having fun, right? What happened? There was black spreading all over him now, but it wasn't shadow. She didn't know what it was.

_Please, Mabel, stop._

But she couldn't. Her fingers touched his doggy nose again, and the black became a little darker. Her brother grew a little smaller.

_Mable please! You're making it worse!_

Real Dipper would never say that. But real Dipper wasn't the one she was hurting, and dream Dipper flinched away from her with such force that a stab of fear overcame her. She couldn't stop. Her hand wouldn't stop, poking and prodding at his nose until the darkness became fur, his teeth became sharper as he shouted at her to _stop, please Mabel you don't know what you're doing!_

_You're making it worse!_

_You're hurting me!_

_Get AWAY!_

But her brother was already too far gone.

Before she could realize, before the slow terror crept up to her heart and clawed it out, forcing her into wakefulness, something blocked her view. Suddenly there wasn't any Dippers in her dream, and it seemed like there never were.

_Shooting Star._

“ _Bill?”_ He gave her a grin, all teeth, like he usually did, and she knew there was a reason she couldn't trust him, but it seemed so far away now that it didn't matter. The nightmare had passed and she was with her teammate. _“Bill! What are you doing here, you goofball?”_

He seemed taken aback for a second, and she knew in the same way that she knew the sun would rise tomorrow that his reaction was a very good one. He shouldn't expect forgiveness. For what, she couldn't remember, but he deserved to suffer a little bit before she forgave him. But this is dream Bill, not real Bill, and dream Bill was still her teammate no matter what real Bill had done. The man recovered quickly, yellow eyes glinting with something akin to playfulness. _I came to check on you! And gosh, it's a good thing I did – just look at how boring this place is!_

Indeed, her dream lacked the unspeakable amount of colors that usually greeted her. That couldn't be right. She was Mabel Pines, darn it, and her dreams need glitter like summer nights need fireflies. _“Oh no! Can we fix it?”_

 _Of course, Shooting Star! It should be easy enough!_ As he spoke, clouds of blue covered him. It looked like starlight, like a nebula the color of cotton candy and healthy saltwater seas was helping him keep his word. Color spread like a disease, just the way she liked it. Bill offered her something that looked like a cross between a paintbrush and a wand, and she took it happily.

Real Bill hadn't quite earned forgiveness yet, but dream Bill would always have just what she needed. Her dream was bursting at the seams with color and light with just a few well-placed gestures on her part, and they were both glowing with that nebulous blue. It felt a bit cold on her skin, but by no means did cold mean unfriendly here, it just meant different. And different was good. Different was _excellent._

Bill looked at her, and her dream self was able to look at everything at once.

_I really am sorry about earlier, Shooting Star._

Her laughter calmed. Her colorful world dimmed slightly, but refused to disappear. She hoped it never did – it was too beautiful, and team Dream Sweaters made it which made it super important. No matter what.

“ _I don't want to forgive you yet.”_

It looked like he expected this, but she still smiled. Because Bill is her friend.

“ _But thanks. I'll see you later, okay?”_

He smiled back, but this smile wasn't made of teeth. It was small, like he was trying to hide it. _Definitely. Later, Shooting Star!_

* * *

When Mabel woke up to see a black dog laying at the foot of her bed, she almost screamed.

When Dipper turned to look at her, worry shining in his big black eyes, she almost cried.

 _I'm not ready to forgive you yet._ If they couldn't fix this, she might just go after Bill herself.


	13. Wendy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideon tries again. Things don't go well for the twins.

“Whoa, dude, when did we get a dog?” Wendy tilted her head at the 'new' addition to the Shack, and Dipper couldn't help but tilt back at her, ears perked to attention. Of course Wendy wouldn't recognize him like this, but it still stung a little. The redhead laughed at his response and tilted the other way, grinning. “Pretty cool. Got a name?”

“Uh.” Mabel shrunk, fidgeting. “Um.”

“Uh, um, what man?” She leaned around the counter and reached, letting her hand hover in the space in front of Dipper's nose. He almost rolled his eyes, but curiosity got the better of him and he gave an obliging sniff – the feedback was filled with the smell of tree sap, floral deodorant, and campfire smoke. Wendy's so cool. “Oh, dude, he's friendly right? I can pet him?”

Oh god, his tail. He can hear Mabel trying to hold back a squeal of delight because his tail is a _freaking traitor._ “Duh!”

“I heard 'dog', dawgs. I have arrived to investigate.”

Mabel giggled. “Hi, Soos. Yeah, it's, uh...”

“It's a complete sweetheart is what it is.” Wendy worries at one of his ears, and Dipper thinks this might be heaven. “Look at him, he's like a huge puppy!”

“That might be one of the cutest things I've ever seen, yo.”

“Mabel, dude, seriously what's his name?” She scritched at his neck, smile shrinking a bit. “He doesn't have a collar. You _know_ he might get in trouble if he doesn't have a collar, right?”

“What? He will?”

“Yeah man, if he gets lost in town or something and doesn't have a collar, Animal Control might get him. Or McGucket, now that I think about it.” Dipper nosed at her wrist. Wendy blinked at him, tilting her head again. “... I guess he seems smart enough to not get lost, though. Still, you should get him one, just in case.”

A large hand landed on his back and all the fur on that area jumped to attention, but when his head whipped around he could only see Soos acting like he'd never even pet a dog before. “Aw, dood, so soft...”

“Nah, he's got pretty stiff fur. Probably because it's so short.”

“And because he barely ever washes!” Mabel laughed.

“Ah, well, it's kinda a dogs job to get dirty, ya know?” Wendy grinned. “They roll around a lot when they're happy right?”

“Well, I haven't seen him do _that_ yet...”

“Wouldn't it be so cute if he chased his tail, like, dogs do that right? I'd totally do that if I had a tail.” Soos' eyes gleamed with an idea. “Ham-bone, can you make me a tail? That's, like, my greatest idea ever. I could totally be a dog for a day, right?” He grinned. “Doods, imagine me doin' all my work, but like, as a dog.”

“Oh my gosh, I don't think I'll be able to handle that. If I laugh while I'm here I might actually look like I'm _enjoying_ myself.”

“Maybe, Soos. One day.”

“ _Yus._ ”

Something stirred in Dipper's chest.

He stiffened. _Set Animal._ His ears, unhindered with Wendy watching him in interest, twisted to face behind him and his head quickly followed. The spot, to the far wall of the Shack, was just as empty as the spot in Bill's shop had been, but there was something... _off_ about it. Weird.

He growled, low and slightly menacing. Soos backed away from him a bit, but Mabel came forward. “Huh? What's wrong?”

“Think he heard something?”

Dipper squinted at the spot, focusing, body turning away from Wendy to face the area head-on. Curious, he stepped to the left, about a foot from his original seat, and blinked as the spot moved slightly too – the thing, whatever it was, wasn't actually fixed to the wall. Instead, it seemed to be _outside_.

He huffed at Mabel and trotted to the front door.

“Oh, boy.”

“Okay, I change my mind. He's not a sweetheart. He's _Dipper._ ”

Mabel laughed, nervous. “Uh, well... You're, uh, not exactly... wrong?” Both Wendy and Soos turned to the girl, but while Wendy looked even more confused, Soos' expression cleared in understanding. Mabel took in their reactions and decided, you know, maybe it's better if she let someone else explain it. “Okaywellgottago _bye!_ ”

“Wh- Mabel, hey!”

Both Mabel and Dipper bolted as soon as she opened the door, leaving Wendy's shouting and Soos' awestruck wonder behind them.

Mabel breathed a sigh of relief, unaware of the trouble approaching their summer home, and followed her doggy brother past the treeline and into the waiting woods.

* * *

“Oh, Mabel? Yeah, she just left.”

“And what about her... _brother_?”

The redheaded girl behind the counter eyed him with no little amount of irritation. “Haven't seen Dipper all day, kid.”

“What about a dog? About yay high, pointed ears and the like?”

“Nope.”

Behind the pastel-clad menace, Soos turned to stare at Wendy's obvious lie. She stared back, shook her head a little, and returned her attention to the trashy magazine stolen from the front stand. Whoever the kid was, his face was reddening a bit, but he was hesitant to challenge the larger girl. “Listen, I know our dear Stanford may have spread some awful lies about me, but I can assure you I'm only lookin' out for my dumplin'.” Wendy almost scoffed, but just managed to hold it back. Yeah, she knows all about this brat, but not all of it came from Stan. “See, that dog attacked me the other day, and I have reason to believe it's hangin' round this here property.”

If Soos wasn't on her side before, the mention of the 'dog' _attacking_ this kid appealed to his sense of justice. Yeah, they both knew what was going on here, Wendy gathered with a glance to her co-worker, and neither of them were letting this guy past them without a fight. “Oh, Dood, I think I might've seen a dog like that around!”

The kid turned, all anger in his face disappearing. “Really? Where?”

“Around Ol' man McGucket's place, dawg. By the dump. Can't miss it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yer' pullin' my leg. I _know_ the dog's here somewhere.”

“Yeah?” His attention turned back to Wendy. “Why's that?”

“Er.” He struggled. “Well... domesticated animals are... naturally drawn to people?”

“Then why wouldn't it be around town?”

“Quit asking questions! Tell me where the dog is!”

“Told you, dude. Haven't seen a dog.”

“Nope, no dogs here, dawg.”

The little abomination pursed his lips, looking from Wendy to Soos and back again. Thinking. “If you won't point me to where that miserable creature is, I'll have to use other measures.” He said, voice lowering. “And I guarantee, you will _not_ like them.”

“Buddy,” Wendy scoffed, “The only 'miserable creature' around here is me. _Maybe_ Boss-man on a slow day. Now, lemme' say it again.”

With this, she boosted herself from her seat, tromping to the other side of the counter with all the grace and violent promise of a lioness. She stood, back straight and legs braced, within the personal bubble of Gideon Gleeful and looked down on him with the most intense look of disdain a teenager could possibly manage – which is to say, as if the child equated to a large pile of pigeon shit slathered on what could have been a mediocre wooden bench that she was being forced to sit on. Gideon, to his credit, matched this look for a moment, but was eventually overwhelmed by the pure years of experience Wendy had in this endeavor, and took a step back.

“There are no dogs here.”

Gleeful frowned, one hand itching to grab his bolo tie. But it was broad daylight, in the middle of a tourist trap, and he couldn't do a _thing_.

“Fine,” he spat, backing away from the girl, “but I'll come back. And when I do, you best not lie to me again.”

With that, he stormed away.

“Whoa,” Soos blinked at Wendy, eyes almost sparkling. “Dood, that was the scariest thing I've ever seen you do. I almost wet my pants.”

Wendy laughed. “Oh, that? Man, that was nothing. Your should see my buddy Tambry's glare – she makes it look like she's, like, ten seconds from stabbing someone.”

“I sincerely doubt I'll ever be able to pull that off.”

“Aw, don't worry Soos.” She escaped to her seat once again, flipping open her magazine. “It's why I'm here, man. _Everyone's_ scared of teenagers, so I'll handle all the intimidation junk. You just focus on whatever you do.”

He saluted. “Aye, aye, Madam.”

“Geez, quit making me smile, I told you I don't wanna smile at work!”

* * *

“Dipper, slow down!” He paused, half-turned towards his struggling sister as she tried to slide over a fallen tree. She huffed out a breath when her feet touched the ground and jogged over to where he stood. “What's so important over here, anyway? Isn't it dangerous out here without the Journal?”

Dipper shook his head, unable to explain the nocturnal status of the creatures in this part of the woods, and continued on. For Mabel's sake, his pace was slowed to a lively trot so she didn't fall too far behind. They were getting closer to the source – he could feel it. The riotous movement in his chest had to be something not-physical; he was careful to keep track of his heart rate as the feeling grew more intense, but the familiar beat didn't change. There was something supernatural at work here, and it might be centered around _him._

And that was worrying.

Really worrying.

Though Bill said he had the same feeling, except _worse_. Was this how he felt all the time? Or, like Dipper, did it only get worse as he got closer to the source? He'd already put the possibility of Bill being the cause out of his mind – if it was this bad for him all the time, why in the world would the demon make it _worse_ by encouraging it?

No, this wasn't Bill.

“Ugh,” Mabel covered her nose, “what's that smell?”

Dipper sniffed the air and almost gagged. What _was_ that smell?

Finally, they dodged around a tree, eyes meeting a small stream in an equally small clearing. Dipper stared, unwilling to process what lay in front of the pair, knowing it was the source of the feeling he was experiencing. Behind him, Mabel gagged, eyes tearing while her face paled in recognition of the grotesque form. Thankfully, they'd never seen what it had been originally. That would have made this some much worse – but it was too jarring for the both of them to think about that at the moment.

 _Set Animal;_ a mystical creature often depicted on hieroglyphs as a large dog-like being with tall, pointed ears. They were drawn to ancient tombs, often seen searching for a way to enter before humanity scared them off. Dipper always thought they had been jackals, but was just now coming to terms that maybe he had been wrong.

Lying in the sand of the stream, flesh already torn and discarded by some irritated beast, was a human body.


	14. Dummy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill's fun to write.

“He still there?”

Soos peeked out as stealthily as he could and looked over the front drive from the window. “I dunno, dood, I don't see him anywhere.”

Wendy sighed. “We need-...” There was a lot of things they needed. The two main employees of the Mystery Shack may not always be kept in the loop, but its been an unspoken rule ever since the first day of summer: _look out for the kids_. On pain of unemployment and possibly death. No one really told them anything, but Wendy knew Dipper had gotten into something he shouldn't have and was paying the price for it, and Mabel feels responsible. Really, there was only one circumstance this could have possibly come about from, and Gideon showing up at the Shack pretty much confirmed it. “... We need to get Dipper a collar. The little runt's probably going to be hunting for him. We can't give them any real reason to take him away.”

Soos frowned. It looked... not right, on his face. “I don't think any of my old dogs were Dipper's size, dawg. Think I should go to the pet store?”

“Yeah. Here,” she tossed him a set of keys, “take the cart. I'll be on lookout.”

He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

The door burst open to one frantic Mabel and no Dipper to speak of.

She huffed with exertion, cheeks flushed and overheating under her usual thick sweater. Her eyes were bright with fear and determination. They swept over the Shack quickly, completely looking over Wendy and Soos, to their surprise, and zeroed in on the door labeled 'Employees Only'. Mabel practically flew to it, throwing the door open and vanishing inside.

“ _Grunkle Stan!_ ”

Wendy and Soos stared at the door as it slowly creaked shut, then at each other.

“The collar.”

“On it, dood.”

He flipped the sign on the front door as he left, officially closing the Mystery Shack for the day.

* * *

Something wasn't right.

Bill frowned, glancing needlessly to the calender. No, he knew what day it was, he knew what stage they were in on the lunar cycle and he _knew_ that the next solar flare wouldn't occur for the next five years, at least. Bill knows a lot of things. He knows Gideon is probably trying to track down Dipper and he knows Dipper is being smart in the only way he knows how, mostly by getting into trouble and hoping for the best. He's already predicted the weather for the next four months in a fit of boredom two years back and there is nothing of interest, nothing at all, about any of these things today.

Well, Pine Tree will always be interesting, but he shouldn't be actively in trouble. Not less than forty-eight hours after his transformation. Bill glanced down at his hand, still wrapped in bandages - he could have healed it by now. He doesn't really want to.

So what was wrong?

No, not wrong. Bill closed his eyes. It felt as if it was more of a transition than an actual absence of something. A new cycle. Maybe a false start – he grit his teeth – but what was it that was _starting_?

The gnomes have been quiet since their last kidnapping attempt, hesitant to approach the Shack these days. The Gobblewonker has always been quiet. Ghosts didn't have cycles, and the Manitaur population had already been out of hibernation over a month ago. The status of the dinosaurs under the town would worsen by summer's end, but that wasn't exactly worrying. Whatever candy-filled abomination this years Summerween children would create would take care of itself – no matter what or who the thing eats, it would all be free by the next day, so what did it matter? By all intents and purposes, _nothing should be wrong._

Bill opened his eyes and glared at the calender a little more directly. Eye-bats migrated in the fall, and all but one witch had been run out of the surrounding mountains. There are no false starts here. Bill made sure of it every damn year, as a point of personal pride. Gravity Falls was _his_. There was – dare he say it – _order_ in this chaos.

The date stared up at him from the innocent page.

Bill stared back, trying to remember what part of the number made him so uneasy.

He was still staring when the phone rang. A wisp of magic sent the receiver in his direction, and he leaned one ear against it, not daring to break his gaze. “Cipher.”

“ _We have a problem.”_

“Fez!” He grinned. “Are you really missing me that much? What happened, huh? Shooting Star catch you cheating at poker?”

“ _Bill,”_ the demon blinked, curious, _“we have a_ problem _.”_

“What kind of problem?”

“ _The kids found a corpse, Cipher.”_

He paused.

Oh.

_Oh._

“... _Shit_! Gimme ten seconds!”

The phone dropped, but there's nothing rude about this- no doubt Fez had already hung up. Bill glared at the calender in understanding; it wasn't the exact day, no, but it was _close_ , and apparently that was good enough for _some people_ that should really be sleeping! He knows he's right, but just to be sure he does a quick count: last attack in '05, but he _dealt_ with it because maybe Gravity Falls wasn't his at the time but damn it, he had a _claim_ on the Pines family and this damn thing was getting in the way – but no, apparently he didn't deal with it well enough because it's been seven years and the stupid thing is back right on time.

He teleports to the all-too-familiar hovel; it used to be quite a nice little cottage back in '76, but now it was home to one of the most irritating creatures he had ever encountered, seconded only to humans, because neither of them refuse to fucking die.

It's empty. Because of course it is.

Bill assumes the corpse the kids found is nearby, and it is, but there's also something he doesn't expect.

_Bill?_

The demon sighs, eyes flashing. “Pine Tree. What are you still doing here?”

 _I could- wait, still?_ Dipper displayed a few teeth. _Who told you I was here?_

“Fez thought it would be better to have professionals handle this in place of doggy Pine Trees.” He huffed, floating over to examine the body and finding exactly what he hoped he wouldn't. Of course, rivulets of blood coated the entire mass, but past the mess there was a single, deathly efficient bite right at the crook of the persons neck – everything else was irritated claw marks and signs of struggle, probably earned while whoever the body belonged to had been running for dear life. It would be absolutely fascinating if he weren't so _furious._ “You should have gone with your sister, kid. No one should be alone with this thing running around, _especially_ you two pains in my existence.”

He has the decency to look ashamed at that. _… What did this?_

“Something that _really_ doesn't want to stay dead!” He grinned. “Ooh, it's so interesting, so _violent_ , I really wish I didn't hate the stupid thing so much, we could have been friends!” The grin sharpened. “Though, I bet this guy's not a very good drinking buddy, what with the cannibalism and all!”

_That's..._

“Rude? I know!”

_Terrifying. That's terrifying._

“And you let Shooting Star walk off, _alone_ , without even thinking!” Bill shook his head, summoning up his not-gold phone before placing a call. “Fez! … Yeah, I'd say that's about right! I'll send Pine Tree that way when we're done here! … Oh, don't be so dramatic, you know I wouldn't!” He considered Dipper for a moment. “Well, much, that is! Now, how's Shooting Star?”

There's a stretch of silence on Bill's end. Dipper fidgets, nervously pivoting his ears in case... _whatever_ Bill was worried about tried to sneak up on them. _Mabel's okay, right? She's at the Shack?_

“Just a moment, Pine Tree.” A few loud noises spill from the receiver, but the demon appears unfazed. “... Star! How's emotional trauma treating you?”

_That's not funny Bill._

“Shush, kid, it's not meant to be. No, not you, Star, you're brother's just being irksome. Now! I need you to answer some questions for me.” Mabel says a few things Dipper can't pick up while he's focusing on the sounds of the forest, but whatever happened, it has Bill smiling. “It's a done deal, Shooting Star! Now, did you see any figures on your way back? … Voices? Scratches on trees? Okay, okay, how about birdsongs? No?” His grin turns feral. At this point, Dipper's used to it. “ _Fantastic_. Thank you! … Yes, just give us a moment, I'll have him there in a bit! Auf Wiedersehen!”

_You know German?_

“I know a lot of things, kid!” The phone disappears with a flash, leaving a light imprint on Dipper's eyes. “Now what about you? Smell anything weird? Anything to add to Star's answers?”

He only shakes his head, ears still very much at attention. _What's this about? Is something after us?_

Bill puffs out a breath that could either be a sign of aggravation or amusement. “Not yet! And it won't be after _you_ , kid, just every human you know and love! I mean, technically death comes for all, blah blah blah, but I'm talking about an actual abomination against life itself!”

_That's... not very helpful._

“No worries, Pine Tree, I'm dealing with it!” The demon's eyes flash yellow. “There's no way this little snag is getting away from me a second time. Now, if you'd stay still like a good Set Animal, I have to hold up my end of the bargain!”

_Bargain? What-_

“Nope! See you on the other side, kid!”

Dipper disappears from the stream's bed in a flash of light, leaving Bill to consider the fresh corpse with a critical eye and a grin that could send warlords to their knees.

* * *

“ _Dipper!_ ”

He appears in a flash of yellow light, blinking and confused, but Mabel runs forward to hug him anyway. One ear bats at her hair in a frantic urge to get his bearings, but she feels him relax a bit at the sight of her. She pulls back, still a bit red from her frantic sprint through to woods and shaking from their discovery, and smiles at her brother. “No worries, Bro-bro, I got your back!” He huffed in confusion, and the look he gives her is in a language she can understand. “No, I didn't do anything dumb. I traded my answers so Bill would bring you back!”

He stiffens again. Mabel could practically hear his ranting and sighs when the worried growling starts.

It doesn't look like she'd get a word in edgeways even if she tried, so she decides to settle on the ground and wait for him to be done, because Dipper really does need to rant every once in a while. It must be bothering him, now that she thinks about it. Dipper was always good at ranting, and now that he's without an audience – well, an audience other than Bill, that is. Who... really made it sound like he could understand Dipper's speech?

It's really sad that the demon started this in the first place, because that would be really cool otherwise.

She blinks, listening to her brother huff and puff at her face without actually hearing him. No, that's not right – it started with Mabel, didn't it? She frowns, guilt-stricken, but doesn't stop her thought process. It started with... Dipper and her wanting to go into the Tent of Telepathy, and Bill...

Bill _really_ didn't want to be there. And she remembers Gideon and Bill nearly tearing each others heads off on the last date she went on with him.

Her eyes narrow, focusing now. There are three parts to every chain reaction, Dipper once told her. There's the setup first – like putting dominos in a line, or setting balls on a pool table – then the 'catalyst' thingy, which was supposed to be some kind of driving force, and then came the reaction. Mabel knows this, and right after Dipper explained it to her she started seeing it everywhere, so much so that she almost ignores it these days. But maybe it can apply to their problem too.

They were the setup. Bill didn't want to go to the tent, but the twins dragged him in anyway. She didn't want to break Gideon's heart, so agreed to a date. Gideon _saw_ Bill at the Shack, asked questions, baited Mabel into a second date because he knew something she didn't.

So the pool table is ready to play, everything's lined up. But...

It's against the rules to just push all the balls into the holes with your hand. You can't drive a nail down without a hammer, or you'll hurt yourself. If Bill was being used by Gideon...

She slapped a hand over her eyes as punishment for being a dummy.

It's not actually Bill's fault. It's Gideon's.

 


	15. Coping with a Side of Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley "How did my Life Come to This" Pines

Stan was still watching the kids from his place at the window when the phone rang again. This mess is going to bite into his phone bill if things keep going the way they are, but he'll have to get used to it. That doesn't stop him from grumbling as he picked up the reciever. “Cipher?”

“ _Yes, Fez?”_

“What in the seven hecks is going on here?”

“ _Shooting Star got to you too, huh? But no worries, Pines, I'm... sort-of handling it. Remember that mess back in '05?”_

“Can't say I do.”

“ _Of course not, because I'm good at my job. Point is, there was something hunting you, and then it stopped. Because having your entrails scattered through the trees of Oregon was probably a little detrimental to that plan!”_ The demon made a frustrated noise. _“But, get this! That didn't stop it! And you know how much I don't like things that don't die!”_

“I know where you're coming from, yeah.”

“ _Don't get snarky with me, Fez! I'm not the one killing people!”_

“... Anymore.”

“ _I don't_ have _to include you in this.”_

Stan shook his head. “So do you know what it is yet?”

His inquiry was met with a burst of static. He blinked, surprised – the frustrated noises and complaints, he was used to, but static was rare. Eventually the white noise subsided into a steady beat that buzzed in his ears. _Fuzz, fuzz, fuzz_ every three seconds. _“... No.”_

“What's that noise?”

* * *

Bill took a breath, easing away from the tree with a few chips of bark stuck on his forehead. “Nothing.”

* * *

Stan grunted. The front door swung open, Mabel and Dipper edging inside. They automatically settled near Stan – something that warmed the cold cockles of his old man's heart – but while Dipper focused on taking a power nap, Mabel was watching the receiver in his hand. Neither of them said anything. “... How exactly did you kill it last time? What did it look like?”

“ _I went at it with a silver hatchet, Fez! Its body steamed where I cut! I don't see why it's not dead!”_

“What did it _look_ like, Cipher?”

“ _Ugh, it was... the thing sometimes stood on two legs, sometimes four. White, had the kind of teeth I want my pet to have – which should say a lot!”_ It really did, actually. Bill's tastes, while somewhat classy, were _horrific_ when it came to personal pleasures. _“And its intelligence was above an animals'.”_

“Are you sure it's not some sort of Wendi-something?”

“ _Silver hatchet, Fez!”_

“Maybe there's more than one.”

“ _It's on a schedule! It_ hibernates, _Pines! Last time one of them set up camp, it was in some run down cabin- it stayed there for years! I watched it!”_

“But you killed it.”

“ _And then it came back, which, I don't know if you know this, makes me very angry!”_

Stan sighed. “Are you _sure_ it's the same thing?”

“ _It has to be. It hibernated and licked its wounds for seven years and now it's back. And it probably has a grudge!”_

“Against you?”

“ _Against you.”_

“Wha- me? Why me?”

“ _Another thing- it hates humans. Which I completely understand! But I was tracking it while it was hunting you, and not only was it bypassing all of the forest creatures, but it only went after humans, too!”_ He muttered. _“Didn't even go after me. I don't know if I want to be thrilled or insulted. Do you know how much time I spent making sure this body was completely, unquestionably human! It took a lot of time! Despite the fact that time in meaningless! And the thing just... waves it off!”_

“You'll be going after it then?”

“ _Of course! You just work on your little side-project, Fez, I'll take care of this.”_

“Hey, cork it about that. You know my time-table – the materials don't just pop outta thin air.” Mabel was still looking at the receiver. He frowned, turning towards her. “Uh, Mabel, sweetie? Do you need the phone?”

“Not... really.”

“Anything... you wanna say to him?”

She frowned back at him, considering. “Tell him... I won't throw things at him anymore.”

“... Hear that, Cipher? Mabel's giving you some mercy.”

“ _Finally!”_

Stan grinned, reaching over to muss at her hair. “You did good, kiddo. It was a pretty good grudge while it lasted, yeah?” A day was pretty impressive, considering just how loving Mabel was inclined to be. Stan didn't doubt her one bit- for all the sparkles and creativity, he knew she was just as clever as her brother. Just... a little more hands-on, is all. Like Stan.

She laughed. “Yeah... I guess I'm not very good at this stuff.”

“Eh, you've got some fight in ya'. Besides, you're good at other things! Who needs grudges, anyway?”

“ _Those kids are making you soft.”_

“Can it, my great-niece is learning a life lesson. Let me have this.”

“Did he figure out who... who died yet?”

He paused. “... Cipher?”

“ _Nope! Can't say I'm interested, though!”_

Stan frowned. “He'll find out after all this is over.”

“Okay.”

“ _That's not what I said!”_

“Doesn't matter. If the kid want to know who the poor sucker was, you're gonna tell her. _After_ this is over.”

“ _Fine, fine, you oxidizing bag of flesh! Don't say I never did anything for you two!”_

“Ah, you're going soft too, don't try saying you aren't.”

“ _Says the softie! I'll be by the Shack in a few hours, don't wait up!”_

The line went dead.

Dipper sighed in his sleep. Mabel could hear a bumblebee bump against the windowpane, wings buzzing as it flew in the opposite direction, and Stan would chew at his lip if he didn't think it would split with his worrying. Wordlessly, he got up, swung open the fridge and retrieved two Pitts before falling back into his chair. One went to Mabel – the redness from her run had almost disappeared, and now she just looked like she had spent the last few nights plagued with nightmares. Her cheeks were lacking that happy glow. As for the other can, its contents went straight to Stan's stomach (he nearly choked on the pit). The Shack was quiet, a strange lack of customers traipsing through its' halls.

Stan scowled, realizing. “I'm gonna check on the labor force. Hold the fort, kiddo.”

His great-niece nodded, taking another sip of soda.

The front room was nearly empty when he got there. The only person there was Wendy, with no Soos to speak of – weird, the kid had been after a promotion since day one and idolized Stan like he used to idolize his dad before an attack of sanity got to him. He wouldn't just _leave_. “You.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow from behind her magazine. “Me?”

“Why are there no customers.”

“We closed up after Mabel came running in like she saw a ghost, dude. Thought you guys needed some family time.”

He really shouldn't encourage that. Either ignore it or deal out wage reductions... but Mabel did need the quiet, and tourists were rowdy. He decided to ignore it. “Where's Soos?”

“Going to pick up something for Dipper. He took the cart.”

“I thought I gave _you_ the keys?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, aiming a glance at the outside porch, “but I'm doing somethin' else right now.”

“And what's that.”

“Watching your arch-nemesis trying to hide behind some trees.”

“Arch... _Gideon_.”

“Ding ding, got it in one.”

“What's _that_ little rat doing here?”

“Looking for Dipper. We told him to eat horse dung.”

He paused. Now that's something worth praising. “Eh... Good job.”

Wendy had to hide her grin. “Do what I can, Mr. P.”

“Keep an eye on him. And don't let the kids go outside without telling me.”

“Will do.” She sent him a lazy salute and continued reading.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad this is getting so much attention - thank you so much, everyone who commented last chapter! You're all making my day! I've got at least one plot twist planned, plus the explanation for the cannon divergence in this fic, so stick with me!


	16. Summoning Setups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill has friends, surprisingly. They think he's pretty cool.

“Now, if I were a bloodthirsty murderer with a knack for human scent, where would I be...?”

Dead blood clung to his sleeves. Flecks of red and black dried on his face and a clump of what could have been flesh decorated his hair. Really, the demon looked as if he had ripped open the carcass himself, which was to be expected since he did exactly that – there's no time for respecting the dead when one is on a mission to save lives...

Huh. Save lives. Bill Cipher, dream demon and likable harbinger of chaos and destruction, will save someone. Multiple someones! He smiled. It's been a while since he tried the reformed villain approach. The human suit was probably helping.

Right. Sort-of new form, sort-of new demon. Recycled demon. Two-for-one demon: buy one personality, and this other more vile personality for free! He wasn't entirely sure which personality is which, but at least neither of them were boring. And this one is the one the kids liked before he crushed Pine Tree's dreams and their trust shattered into a million tiny pieces.

He felt a headache coming on just thinking about it. Humans are delicate, human _feelings_ even more so, and building that trust up again bit by messy bit will take time he just barely had the patience for.

Not at all like his current endeavor, which he had absolutely no patience for.

“Come out, come out!”

The trees answered with a hiss of shifting leaves in the wind. They told him nothing.

He frowned. “... Fine. I suppose I have energy to waste!” Wind echoed through the trees, toying with his hat and the clean, shiny locks of his hair. Oh, stepping into this forest was like a warm welcome that's been a long time coming, energy seeping into his skin like warm water breaking through grime. Nothing felt so familiar or so right, and the magic that came to his call manifested all around him – no other land would ever be able to host him as well as Oregon did. Soon his frown was no more, his expression flattening in concentration. “Vg evmr elxziv nvlh hgvoozh hkzgrfn hvkzizgfn nvfn.”

 _I come to call my stars in a separate place. I come to call my servants in my separate space of stars._ There are multiple meanings, but the intention remains. He grit his teeth, feeling the drain on his magic stores take and take for whatever he may want to make a doorway for. Not to worry – he had plenty to go around, and being a demon really did have its perks in terms of rejuvenation, but he had to save some. He can only take three. Only three.

Gritting his teeth, Bill tugged off both gloves and tossed them aside, focusing in on the three-dimensional strings of existence passing exactly in front of him. Only a few of his subordinates could survive without trial in three dimensions, but exercise in adaptability was important. “Gilmxl wv xlo.”

The beasts small jaws snapped as she was brought into existence, taking in the sweet summer air with greedy breaths and despondent, unseeing eyes. In recent times she had become Bill's favorite – sold her soul for opportunities and served so loyally that he gave her a nickname to call her own. _Runt._

She greeted him exuberantly, smooth, eel-like body wrapping around an outstretched arm as she nosed respectfully at his cuff. He returned the favor, pausing to press his forehead to the thickest part of her thin body before continuing. “Rm rmwrtmzgrlmv nlih.”

This one was a little less pleased at having been called, rough voice morphing into tinny complaints as one wing popped through – then another, another, another, until the body had no choice but to follow. They had sold themselves for revenge, died on the battlefield, and spent the next two-thousand years moping about it.

Still, Bill could tell they were excited to be in this strange new space, as their eight dark eyes sparked and twitched rapidly and without complaint. A wing brushed his side as they flew to the nearest tree branch, utilizing their newfound sense of smell to its full advantage. “Jfr mlm wvhgifzgfi.”

The final one was indeed the largest and most capable of the summoned lot, zirs bony maw slinking through before the rest followed suit. Large, imposing, and expressionless, nothing but skin clung to zirs frame, throwing stitched-together bones and rough cartilage into striking relief. Really, zie was beautiful in zirs stark, threatening way.

Zie knelt, iron-tipped tail swishing behind zirs form, and immediately retreated. For someone of zirs species, the act was unspeakably affectionate.

Bill grinned, let out a breath, and descended until both feet touched the ground. He would have to conserve energy, now. No more lazy cheats until either he sent them all back to where they came from or until he completely refreshed. Runt untangled from his sleeve, taking a portion of the dead blood with her. It contrasted with her color beautifully, dark red meeting dawn blue, so he didn't really mind. He had everyone's full attention now, regardless of their various distances. “I have called you here for a _hunt_. You will destroy only what I wish you to, and show either apathy or respect to all things I don't want erased from existence. Understand?”

Jfr's voice rattled, as did Rm's, in frantic glee. Of course they would be excited – it's very rare they are able to use their skills. Runt circles the area, eager to get started. Really, Bill couldn't ask for better underlings. “Runt, you have the scent – you and Jfr will be tracking, call if you find anything interesting.” Just like that, they were off. He did so enjoy a hunt. “Rm, you're with me. There's a rmulinrh nearby; study it and shriek if you see anything similar from now until the hunt is over.” He smiles when Rm gurgles a response and leads the way back to the small, blood-coated stream bed. “You'll be looking for something mostly white, toothy, and with at least three-inch claws. It _must_ be taller than a human. Got me?”

Rm screeched, took a few more moments to examine the corpse, and disappeared into the treetops.

Not even ten seconds later, he had Rm's sights in the back of his mind as they steadily scanned the treetops and world below.

Fantastic.

Bill stretched, enjoying the cracks that sounded out like crunching gravel as he did, and sighed. Pacing back to his summoning spot, he hunted down his abandoned gloves and pocketed them in preparation for the short walk ahead.

After all, he did promise to visit the Shack.

* * *

“I am victorious!”

Dipper cocked his head. Mabel did the same. “Uh, what?”

“Sorry guys, but uh,” Wendy gave the twins a waning smile, “we may have gotten into a little trouble while you were out. Gideon was looking for you.”

Ah. Mabel hoped no one noticed her face change – usually Wendy would, 'cause Dipper's usually already off mystery-solving somewhere else by the time things start bothering her – and it looks like no one did. Good. No one really needs to know about Gideon yet. “What did he want?”

“I dunno, but it _sounded_ like he was hunting for Dipper. So... Soos?”

“I got you, bro.” He held out the collar.

Silence.

Dipper's ears lowered in defeat.

“Oh. My. _GOSH!_ ”

He's doomed.

“Soos, it's so _perfect_ , do you have any idea how great this is? Do you? I am going to bedazzle this baby _so much_! And then paint it! And cover it in stickers and glitter glue! And then bedazzle it some more!”

He could hear Wendy smothering a laugh from her spot against the wall. He wished he could be mad at her.

“Oh Dipper you are going to be the single most _adorable_ magical brother the world has _ever_ seen and it is going to be so great!”

Death is coming.

“Hellooooo?”

… Death would have to wait.

“Wha- _Bill_?”

The demon looked... a little more ragged than he should. Even his trademark psychotic grin was edged with something that almost looked like nerves. Not only that, but he was walking – not walking on air, but letting gravity affect him as he had done before Dipper discovered his true nature, back when he was pretending to be human. He didn't look human this time, though; there was a certain unearthly pallor to his dark skin, and his eyes were glowing slightly in the shade.

_Why do you look different? Did something happen?_

His grin waned a bit, almost to the point where he began looking sheepish. “In a sec, Pine Tree.” He looked to Mabel and – wow, _limped_ over to stand in front of her. It could even have been real, judging by his expression, and Dipper could see some of Mabel's initial distaste lessen. “Star? Mind if I stay here for a bit?”

Stan rolled his eyes, but thankfully didn't say anything, sticking to half-hearted mumbles about how they were all at the mercy of a twelve year-old girl instead of the man of the house. Dipper knew he didn't mean it.

Mabel looked at him for a long time. Deciding.

“... Fine.”

_What? You're serious?_

Bill shook his head. “You are something else, Shooting Star.”

“Yeah, yeah, you big demon-y dumbo, go sit down!”

The grin was back full force and he saluted, still looking just as under the weather but not at all as miserable. “Aye, aye!”

Mabel rolled her eyes (something Dipper didn't actually think Mabel knew how to do- today's full of surprises) and went to go pour a glass of water as Bill collapsed into a spare kitchen chair. Stan grumbled at him, too.

“The Mystery Shack! Feel's like it's been so long.”

“You were only 'banned' for eighteen hours, Cipher.”

“And I'm very happy to be back!”

“... Weirdo.”

_What happened to you?_

“Ah, right! Well,” Mabel came back, handing the demon his glass and taking a seat next to Dipper, patting his back until he sat as well. “Obviously I didn't get this bad after _you_ , Pine Tree! You saw me! Shooting Star saw me too!” Stan turned away from the conversation. “Mostly because I made a _deal_! And usually, all I have to do in a deal is redistribute power! It gets complicated, and most of the explanation can only be spoken aloud in an ancient language that would make your ears bleed! Probably! But after you left, I did a few things that _weren't_ a part of a deal!”

“ _You_ hurt yourself? Why?”

Bill shrugged. “As much as I _love_ negotiating with you, Star, the things I need to take care of your little corpse problem aren't easily accounted for in the English language! Plus, the scent was fleeting, and that body's my only lead! I had to improvise!”

“Improvise less!”

_She's right, man, you kinda look like you're drowning. On air. Your whole neck is purplish._

The demon rolled his eyes. “Well, you two are going to suck it up, because I don't have enough extra magic for appearances, and I don't see either of you donating makeup in my color!”

“I dunno, dude,” Wendy said, “I can probably track some down for you.”

“I don't need your handouts! I'm my own demon!”

Stan shook his head, still staring out the window. “What did I do to deserve this?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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